From a Past Life to This[open/hoss]

[.:.Gambler.:.]

Xena
Forever the warrior princess...

Times had changed her. Things were not as they used to be; that was quite obvious for the loss of light in her eyes over the past five years. No one here had really spoken to her yet or told her the way of the gods. She was just there, wallowing in her regret and sorrow. Wallowing in the loss of the two horses she could possibly call a family. This life was not the one she had hoped for, not the one she had wished upon anyone. It was lonely. Above all, it was painful.

She had lived once. She had known the taste of blood on her hooves. She had ripped throats out just for the sheer pleasure of the kill, of the conquest. That was not the Xena that stood here now. This one was mellow, in hiding. The death of Borias had set her apart from her past. The loss of Solan to whom Xena now knew as the goddess of love, Kallistei, had made her realize the need for change. It was not until she had run into Gabrielle that she truly knew what Kallistei had meant. Gabrielle had been the light in the tunnel that Xena had needed, she had been the silver chalice; hope's chest. In Gabrielle, Xena finally had found hope for a future without being feared. Without being known as a murderer or a conqueror, but as a friend and a hero.
It was not to say that Xena liked to babysit. Gabrielle, when first they met, was very naive. She was a spoiled child. Now, Xena regretted ever being nice to her. Had Xena just saved her that once and then walked away, Gabrielle would still be alive. Living a mundane life with her former betrothed, popping out babies like mares were supposed to do. Something Xena had never been able to do, not that she had ever truly wanted to. She had hoped to live a peaceful life with Solan one day, but now he was dead. There was no bringing him back, and Xena had to come to grips with that. Neither was Gabrielle; Xena had to find her own light.
In this world, it seemed, there was no hope. Xena's hope had died when Gabrielle did. Hope lived on in the hearts of everyone, was the adage Xena had been told as a child by her mother, but in Xena-hope had died. She relied on others to give her hope, to believe in her righteous change; least she cross paths once more with the God of War and take again the spoils.
What would happen if they were to interact now, now that her powers were increased ten fold due to her goddess title that had been thrust upon her? She had not heard mention of him here; only mention of a Goddess of War, that seemed not to be around much. Perhaps she had lost focus and slumbered off, missing the exit of the God of War or something. Surely gods chose an heir, surely they had some sort of end to this existence? She had lived only an extra fifteen years, and already she was feeling its toll on her soul.

Xena had been almost a ghost in the divine lands. She did not want to be seen, she did not want to be bothered-she stuck well to her title and wallowed in her self pity, letting it consume her for the time being as she tried to figure out what any of this meant. And many had left her alone. She had seen Kallistei peek in on her once or twice, but they had not really spoken. She did not know the other gods at all, except for Bristile. He seemed to be tormented by a past more horrid than even Xena could imagine; and surely he relived it since he was the God of Time. If not through every waking moment, surely in his dreams.
That was another thing-did gods even have dreams? Surely, for there was a god and a goddess of dreams somewhere out there, though well hidden, but did they cater to the divines? She did not remember what dreams she had had as a goddess. Though-didn’t it all seem like a dream by now? The days had already started running together, being as disconnected and lost from everyone as she felt. There seemed to be some massive storyline going on that she was unaware of, even in this divine form. Something far beyond her control; something she had not even known about in her what was now former life.
She had always known that there were creatures that many had shunned. She also knew that many claimed she was of these creatures before she had started walking with Gabrielle. Such a wretched sinking feeling came over her at this point that she nearly swooned as she remembered her battling days. She knew so little of the outside world-always set on trying to conquer it, never taking the time to view it for what it was. Gabrielle had broken her of that. Such angels as Gabrielle never lasted long on earth; they needed to return home to their ethereal plain. Even as a god though, Xena could not access such a plain of existence-nor did she want to at this point. She did not want to torment Gabrielle any more than she already had. If only I had pushed her away faster, maybe she would still be alive to help others.
Regret. It was such a funny thing to see Xena, the warrior princess, the destroyer of nations, so bent up over the death of one horse. She had killed many in her life time. Many had died under her command. And every face she saw. Every face haunted her every step she took, a burden no one horse should bear alone-but bear it she did. With the death of Borias, all of it was hers to bear. She could not, and would not, forget the faces of those many. They should have lived long lives. They should have sculpted the world. They had meant more to someone than she ever had to anyone. Always, she had been feared. Gabrielle had been the only one who cared even remotely about her; and even Gabrielle had backstabbed her at times. But, they had always managed to rebuild the rifts.

Xena squealed and shook her crown-she could not show weakness, even as a goddess. Crying and apologizing were signs of weakness, no matter how much sorrow and remorse and regret she felt. She was far weaker now than she had been in her warlord days. There were times when she broke down crying, begging the voices of those past kills in pleading sorries, hoping to bring them back into existence. It never worked, and never would. Once the cut was made, the scar never healed… At least,that is what she originally thought. Until she had met Gabrielle, she had known that she would live in constant turmoil, constant shadows. Hatred, fear, loathing were all others ever showed her. Gabrielle had broken that spell.
”She is gone! Silence this taunting of your own voice!”
Xena hissed to herself, trying her best to silence it. The warlord in her still lived, however suppressed. She wanted to bleed the remorse out of her. She knew not even the blood in her body could relieve her of the torment, she knew she did not have enough drops of blood to make up for all the lives she had taken and demanded to be taken. And now, she would live forever knowing there was no way she could take all of the pain and sorrow she had caused back. The regret consumed her-twas her purpose on this earth now. To keep the regret alive, to keep others from committing sins by seeing what regret did to you. How it ate at your very being and wittled you down.

Though she stood tall and proud now, there was little she could say on the subject. Not that she really had anyone to talk to.
Her auds flicked, and she looked around the landscape. This place had been ravaged by time, but was still beautiful. She did not know what hardship had befallen the land, but she could almost feel its regret for not being a part of the bigger picture. So hidden by time, so hidden by the ways of the gods it was alone. She stepped toward the water, and it stirred. The beast beneath it was awakening, taunting her existence. She, having been so new to this, did not know it existed though. And as she raised her crown to drink from the clear liquid pool of illusion, her tormented thoughts were expressed onto the beast-and even it sunk away deeper; trying to get away from her depression.

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[Deleted]

[glow=red,2,300]Diablo[/glow]

Regular, "Words", Thoughts


Though the weather was mild and it was only spring, flames could easily catch hold of the rugged landscape and in a flurry or red and orange, sweep over the dark grasses and withered bushes. It could consume the entire plain, eating away at everything in its path and leaving nothing but ashes behind. But fire was good. It would clear away all the dead things, making way for new life. Beneath the smoldering, foul-smelling and burnt plant parts would be fresh greenery. Small seeds that had been waiting for the chance to break through the tough soil to reach the sun would spring up, taking in the nutrients that the fire left behind of the dead plants. Everything had its place in the world. Even fire.

Diablo blazed o're the lands, spreading the consuming red and yellow behind him. It licked at the brittle, decaying trees and overtook the brown bushes that dotted the bare ground. He controlled his fire. It ate only at the dead things, and left alone the bright green of new flowers and shrubs. This was the God of Fire. He was the creator of brush fires and forest fires.

He was also a God of Anger. One so fearsome with his temper that no horse without his own temper could stand before him upon his fury.

Hate. Rage. Anger. Madness. Fury. It was all apart of Diablo. For so long the fire within his soul fueled all of these emotions, making them stronger, brighter. His rage took control of him at times, though he always tried so hard not to let this be so. Just because he was the God of Fire and Anger, did not mean that he had to give into his temper. He didn't have to be like the fire. He only had to use and control it. It was his, and he was it. Among the negative aspects of his power, there were the emotions of the heart. Love. Lust. Passion. And even Jealousy. Though jealousy would be one of the eviler emotions. One that did more harm than it did any good. Still...it was what he was.

As his fast gallop slowed to a trot, and then dropped into a lazy walk, the bright flames of apparent anger flickered out behind him. The dead forest was ablaze for a only a few moment longer, and then it was all snuffed out, as if a hand had slapped down on top of it and extinguished all the fire. Left behind was a dark, ashen and barren landscape, soon to be blooming anew with green grass and pretty, colorful flowers and bushes.

Diablo paused for a moment, turning his red muzzle to the air as he caught a scent upon the wind. It was a mare, and surprisingly, another of the Gods. This God, however, was full of misery and pain and regret. There were many things a lot of them regretted, but this feeling was so intense...he had never in his long life felt anything like it. It made his own flaming heart ache to think about it. What was so bad that this mare; this God who was a mare, felt such a sad and bitter emotion? He was never one to be curious, but Diablo was already off and trotting in her direction.

Upon reaching where she was standing, head lowered to the crystal clear pool of water that glimmered under the spring sun, he slowed, snorting lightly to announce his approach. "Why such the sullen look, madam?" he asked quietly, in that clipped, foreign accent he always had. "Has something so awful to have happened that you must feel this way? It is un-befitting of such a pretty mare." his tone was warm and kind. He meant no harm. And what he said was no lie. The mare before him was really pretty, at least in his eyes. Her dark bay coat was nearly red under the sun, shimmering like dark water.

With another soft snort, Diablo awaited her reply, wondering if her feeling was too deep for her to speak of it.

[.:.Gambler.:.]

OOC: Tsk tsk Xena...you're having too much fun.
Xena
Forever the warrior princess...

Her heart blazed as she heard the pounding of hooves coming near her. What fool would disturb her misery? Such idle beasts some of the gods were-for she was sure that was all that could tempt her here. And such a beast could be the only one to withstand the misery that was exuding from her body at that particular moment.
As it approached, she took in a deep breath; trying to rein her power in for the moment so she could talk with it without clouding it's mind. The creature at the bottom of the lake was finally able to relax. In drawing in her breath, she took in a deep wiff of the beast that which approached, and found it to be a male. Men, she thought to herself, think they know everything.
She did not even bother to refer to the beast as a "he" for she had found in her life that few males were ever men for even ten minutes in their entire life-they had not the balls to call themselves such. She had known only two souls that could be commended as such: Borias and Solan; for even in his short life he had been brave.
She spared it a glance, though only from the corner of the eye-she did not bother to turn her head to look upon it, she knew what drivel was about to spew from its lips. What irony it was that she could already guess by the look on the beast's face what it was about. It had not come here for a purpose. It had come here to flirt.
It's lack of knowledge astounded her however; weren't all the old gods supposed to know each others names? Weren't they supposed to have counciled over her ascension into her goddess hood? So why then did he not know her purpose, did he not understand what misery had over took her? At this she turned her crown, a stone cold glare boring its way into the beast's soul.
"Tsk Tsk. Of you, Diablo, I would expect better."
She snorted, in that last moment her nares having brought her the stench of brimstone. Only one god would command the fire the way that this beast did; and that would be Diablo, the god of fire. Many times in her former existence Xena had nearly butted heads with the god, as she had quite loved the fire elementals to burn down what villages the conquered herds had sought to protect. Her orbs lingered on him a moment longer, and then she turned her body away from him.
A smirk crossed over her lips, as she remembered her mother telling her: if you've nothing nice to say, say nothing at all. Xena had never been a firm believer in this principal. Instead, she rarely spoke unless she had something nasty to say. She was almost considered a mute at times recently, because only when she was completely boiling over mad did she blurt anything out. His question raged in her mind like a torrent, daring her to take extreme action. She had turned away to try and calm herself; but it was useless. It riled the very being of her existence as he tried to threaten her purpose.
With a renewed fire in her eyes, she turned back toward him-as if she was about to lunge and attack his throat like a wolf. But no such snake like movement occured; she merely stared again with her eyes so filled with remorse, so filled with regret. And with that stare, she sent the mountain of regret that weighed on her shoulders at him.
"If you can be the death of thousands, by your hooves and your command, and bear that burden without cracking under it's weight and collapsing, begging Hades to take your life and all of your family and friends instead of the innocents you slaughtered, then you do not deserve to live any more than the destroyer of nations."
Of course, by destroyer of nations, she was referring to herself-but if he did not know who she was, then he would not catch unto that tidbit of information. It was a mind game she wished to play with Diablo; to make another immortal shudder in his skin with the burden she had to bear. She sent to him all the images of regret and remorse she could. Of the pregnant mares screaming in a panicked frenzy as they tried to find their yearlings before their last pitiful scream was swallowed by the flames. Of the stallions that fought to protect their herds and died because they were weak enough to fall for her temptations. There was no beauty in her business. She was no more a mare then a monster deserving of eternal torment; which in a way is what Kallistei and Bristile had given her in her god hood.
"You do not know the meaning of feeling, boy."
She wondered if Kallistei the goddess of love would come to rescue Diablo and scorn Xena; for Kallistei was the reason she was granted such power, and therefore Kallistei was responsible for her actions. She wouldn't exactly approve of what Xena was doing; but in order for Diablo to know Xena's pain, he had to endure this torment.
When he was on the ground begging for her to stop, Xena would do so. She had mercy. If he never did, then he deserved to die, as he would have no more soul then that wretched child of Gabrielle's Hope.

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[Deleted]

[glow=red,2,300]Diablo[/glow]

Regular, "Words", Thoughts


For a moment, Diablo was surprised to see who's face looked back at him. He had not seen her in a long while. Funny, that after all this time, they were to end up meeting in the Abode.

"Tsk Tsk. Of you, Diablo, I would expect better."

Xena said in an almost bitter tone. She turned away for a moment, and this gave Diablo a chance to speak. He gave a wry smile, even though she couldn't see it with her back turned, but it was clear in his voice. "You know, I never would have guessed you to become a goddess, Xena." he told her, swishing his tail and moving slightly closer to peer around at her. Even though he sounded like he didn't care, a part of him felt bad for her. She had to bear the misery and regret of what she was. There was no escaping it. "The only reason I am unaware is because I was not present in the last meeting. They can get so boring, you know." he tried to make a joke. Tried to get even the tiniest of an amused smile or grin from her. Before he could get too close, she had whirled around, and for a second, Diablo thought she seeked to attack him. No strike came, however, and she spoke.

"If you can be the death of thousands, by your hooves and your command, and bear that burden without cracking under it's weight and collapsing, begging Hades to take your life and all of your family and friends instead of the innocents you slaughtered, then you do not deserve to live any more than the destroyer of nations."

She was obviously agitated now, and the fire god stepped back to give her some space, an amused look upon his features. Though he wished he could have gotten that little grin he used to see Hades get out of her. Why was it that she despised everyone else? Her words ate at him. He knew anger well. Who was she to tell him of this emotion? He felt it every day. Her next words made him frown.

"You do not know the meaning of feeling, boy."

This struck a nerve with Diablo, and the red fire creeped into his onyx eyes, speaking of anger and annoyance. Of course he did, but of only the emotions that came with his powers. Rage ignited. He fought it down, lest his temper get the best of him. He didn't want that, for he did things and said things that later, he would regret. "Oh, don't I?" he asked almost snidely. Did she really think she was right about that one? He tried not to let his anger take over, but it was hard. He lowered his head to look at her directly as he took one single step forward, his stance defensive and tense. "I think we both know that you speak wrongly, Xena. Neither of us know about feeling anything but what out god status grants us." he told her in a low, dark tone. Then, he stepped away again, raising his head to gaze her steadily for a moment before turning away as she had done before. He looked out upon the barren-looking lands and gave a quiet sigh.

[.:.Gambler.:.]

Ooc: not even the slightest tremor when she used her power of projection to project all her regret and remorse toward him? My my Xena already going to get into a fight for the greater good. Oh my.

[.:.Gambler.:.]

Xena
Always the warrior princess...

She showed no emotion on her face, despite her irritation at the beast. He did not even seem to react at her actions, as she tried her best to knock him over with the tidal wave of emotion that came rushing toward him. And in her heart, the doubt crept in; were all the gods so heartless that they had to create a goddess of regret, just to make up for their own lack of feeling it? Surely...Surely it couldn't be so!

Forever, Xena had honored the gods. She had followed under the god of war until her epiphany before Solan's birth. She had listened to Kallistei's every word, hoping for redemption. And now what? She stood before the god of fire, wanting to rip out his very soul. Hating her own existence as he belittled her. If she was not wrought with her own pain, she may have had the thought to walk away; but she had held her anger in for so long, it was bursting to get out. Here was her chance to do something worthwhile for once, and silence the opposition once more.
She did not bother to hear all the words he had spoken, she picked and she chose what she would react to. He was only a game, only something to waste her time playing with until the real fun began. Oh, but how badly she wanted to slay him. How badly she wanted to sink her teeth into his immortal flesh and gnaw his head clean off to dance in his firey blood. She could see the flame in his eyes; maybe if she pissed him off enough, he would ignite himself and burn out like a super nova.
She turned away again, flicking her tail so violently and quickly that she was sure she would draw blood if it smacked across his muzzle. Let him bleed. Let him know the pain of everything he set on fire. She stared momentarily out into the lake, trying to collect her thoughts again. He was heartless, he was soulless, there was no doubt in that if he did not even regard her mental attack with even the slightest empathy. He had no place commanding the living or telling them what to do.
"Tell me, boy, is that so? I don't believe there was some grand discussion over it. It seemed Kallistei and Bristile had decided it without consulting the others; you're unimportant after all. If you can't feel anything, you shouldn't be commanding the living at all, now should you? It's about time you get replaced then, isn't it, Diablo?"
She sniggered, but still she did not pause.
"If you cannot feel remorse for your past sins, if you felt nothing for the emotion I had just tried to convey to you, then you are more dead then alive; at least, you deserve to be such. All the innocents that have died, and they mean nothing to you. And what have you done in your long and happy life while you ended their short miserable dances with it in flames? Do you even know the feeling of being burned alive, Diablo? How can you show no emotion for the horses who have died playing with your toy? You have been immortal too long then, boy. If you do not feel the regret, if you cannot feel anything but your own hot headed rage, then what good are you? Ha! Destroyer, go destroy yourself. Jump into the lake and let your fire burn out. Besides, where were you when the world was being decided-was that too boring of a meeting for you as well? You've done nothing of reward. You've done nothing to bring your name to fame or infamy, you are one of the least known gods. At least I have a reason; I've only been here a few years. You've had hundreds, and you've done nothing. Stood up to no one. You've no more spine then a jelly fish, and I'm sure they can come up with far better retorts."

What was she trying to prove by trying to egg him on? To show that he had emotion, and could act on it? Or was she trying to get herself killed? Even the gods had to be able to die someway, least Hercules would have been killed by Hera long beforehand.
She snorted and rolled her eyes. It felt good to get something out, even if the burden she shouldered rested once more on her shoulders, weighing her down to the earth. The beast hadn't even blinked. What kind of heartless waste of flesh was Diablo?

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[.๑whovian๑.]

Bristile

Sometimes, Time needs a break.


Bristile needed a breather. He just did. Yes, he was an all powerful God, in fact, he was the Lord of Time, one of the most powerful gods. Not to get too full of himself, but he was probably one of the oldest. Or his memories were the oldest at least. He was troubled, and his troubles seemed to circle around two particular things: The war, and Nakoma. He wasn't sure what to do with the mare. He loved her, of course he did, but he wasn't sure if it was the same way she loved him. And the oncoming war was on his mind as well, inevitable as it was. So, the tall chestnut stallion was hankering for a breather, so he was at Mirror Lake. He often came here, as it was a place of monsters, and of beauty; it reminded him of himself. Or Time. Time was a fickle thing, it was beautiful, but it was a monster at the same time. It was also very powerful, and excruciating to deal with sometimes.

For some reason, the God was actually bored, and rather content. Maybe it was the solitude, and maybe it was the comfort of Mirror Lake. The monster was the least of his worries for now, the war had driven all thoughts of his past from his mind. It was good to be distracted. Soon, he began humming to himself, the silly old man that he was, and soon, he was singing. An old Scottish tune he was rather fond of, called I'm Gonna Be, but he liked to call it 500 miles...did it go by both names? He had no idea. He hummed the song for some time, and was about to burst into song when he felt the ground trembling. Well, he didn't actually feel it, but his noxadon senses sure picked something up. He paused, quiet for a moment. He could not hear anything, but he had a feeling that being quiet was a good thing. Then, he had an idea. A childish, naive idea: He was going to eavesdrop.

Ah, to be childish and be so old is a very grand thing indeed. The god transformed quickly, and like a bird, he leaped swiftly and quietly into the air. He propelled himself above the trees, and swiftly glided just above the treetops, hidden from view, and then, oh, then the fun began. He could actually smell the emotions. He could also practically smell hormones too. However, that may (or may not) have been a false reading. In any case, somebody was remarkably pissed off. Though the two horses speaking below did not shout, the air was thin and silent, so the gliding brute could hear every word they spoke. He realized that he had picked up somewhere near the middle of a conversation, because what he picked up were accusations. Mostly from the feminine side. Ah, that was to be expected. However, as he listened, there were some very ill chosen words on the side of the male, such as "You know, I never would have guessed you to become a goddess, Xena."

To the old fellow, the young man's intentions were clear, but they were not at all on the side of the female. Xena. He did not know the mare well, had hadn't really ever even followed her trail, though he knew it was a bloody one, full of remorse and anger, and bloodshed. Bristile had been there when Xena was made a goddess, but he had not been in his noxadon form at the time, and he had not spoken to her. The other, was Diablo; Bristile liked the kid, he seemed like a nice guy, but both of them were very young. Well, at leaste Diablo was young to Bristile...who had never known a normal life. And Bristile knew a thing or two about young gods and goddesses, and one thing was that if they got in a fight, things were going to get messy, and that was the last thing the poor old man needed right now.

When the mare launched her powers at Diablo, Bristile was surprised that the stallion didn't cringe or even back away, however, it all really depended on the horse. Sometimes powers affected some people more than others; for example, that damned time traveler, who Brisitle didn't seem capable of controlling. Xena's powers may have affected Diablo inside, but Fire is difficult to read. However, his lack of reaction was still surprising, and Xena decided to have a field day with the stallion. She ranted at him for quite some time, and as soon as he finished, Bristile saw his chance, and glided slowly down into the trees. He flew through them for a bit, until the scene opened up and he touched down neatly by the lake. He folded his massive wings, and looked steadily at the two horses, a mild smile on his face.

"Picking a fight are we ladies?" he said mildly. He didn't mind insulting Diablo, as it was completely empty, and if Diablo thought he meant a word of it then he would actually agree wholeheartedly with Xena. However, he realized that it was quite possible that his words could upset Xena too, but he decided to let that go. The one thing he really didn't want to end up was Xena-d. He did not want to feel the remorse for everything he had done, and for all the pain that he felt. "If I weren't a sorry old man, I would let you two continue until somebody explodes into a thousand tiny pieces to be put back together by the puzzle god. (Bristile wasn't even sure if there WAS a puzzle god) However, since I AM an old man, I am going to do this."

And with that, the old man wandered right in between the two exploding horses and stopped in the middle of them. He turned his head one way, staring at Diablo, and then the other way to look at Xena, and something happened to him. What happened? He blinked. Then, he looked back at Diablo again. "So, as you've probably noticed my friend, being kind to Regret can often backfire quite horrendously." He looked back at Xena. "As for you, launching yourself at Fire is not always wise, as he is rather good at hiding his emotions." Bristile took a step back.

"Now then," he said, grinning broadly. "You both have two options: You can either stop bickering like old ladies, or I can carry you off to Hephaestus, have him chain you to a rock and give you over to Kalli so that she can give you a five hour sermon on loving one another. Your choice." He surveyed the two of them for a moment, and for some reason, as he felt a shiver run down his spine as he looked at Xena. Her powers must have been leaking at him. He really wished she could be goddess of something else.

words; 1178
muse; fab
note; omg Bristile I love you. If you guys wish for me to change anything, you can, pretty much everything is Bristile being an old man and relishing it.

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[Deleted]

[glow=red,2,300]Diablo[/glow]

Regular, "Words", Thoughts


The regret rolling off of Xena in waves affected him. It really did. Oh yes, quite a lot, but Diablo set his jaw and shoved the feeling aside as easily as he was swatting at a fly with his tail. Regret was not needed. Not for him. He had nothing in his past to regret in the first place, and it seemed that Xena was unaware of that.

"Tell me, boy, is that so? I don't believe there was some grand discussion over it. It seemed Kallistei and Bristile had decided it without consulting the others; you're unimportant after all. If you can't feel anything, you shouldn't be commanding the living at all, now should you? It's about time you get replaced then, isn't it, Diablo?"

"You dig yourself deeper, Xena." the fire-god sighed and shook his head, reigning in his anger and grabbing a hold of the remorse to keep it from sparking. "I have not been a god as long as some may think. Compared to them, I am merely a child."

It was true. He had only recently taken over his father's place, and there were some doubts among the rest of the gods (which he didn't like...). Especially Ember (that insolent brat)!, and Diablo could clearly tell that Bristile's son outright hated him. He (Diablo) had taken his father's side and Ember believed that he thought he knew everything. Ember was wrong. Diablo knew well enough that he still had much to learn.

Xena finally finished her rant, and the stallion with the coal eyes chose his words carefully (he had to with this mare) as he replied. "Though your words ring true for many of the gods that feel no remorse, I am afraid that they mean naught to me." he told her blandly, looking directly at her for a single moment before turning to face the lake as well. "You see...I have killed no one. Yes, I have set and continue to set forest fires, but those are to benefit the Earth. Look," he stepped slightly away, to where the fire he'd made two days ago had left ashes. The one he had started today was only smoke in the wind now. Dragging a hoof over a small pile of the gray sand-like substance, a new, green sprout popped up, its leaves unfolding to the sun.

"What dies gives way to new life."

Diablo didn't get to say anything more. For right then, a huge, black bird descended and Bristile landed in a flurry of raven feathers. "Picking a fight are we ladies?" his tone was mild and calm, and Diablo knew an insult when he heard one. he snorted. "Are you calling me a mare?" he questioned with a raise of his elegant brow. "Come now, Bristile, we all know you pamper your feminine side." he joked lightly. All jokes aside, however, the fire-god did not ignore Bristile's next words.

"If I weren't a sorry old man, I would let you two continue until somebody explodes into a thousand tiny pieces to be put back together by the puzzle god. (Bristile wasn't even sure if there WAS a puzzle god) However, since I AM an old man, I am going to do this."

And he moved between them, his stinging black tail swishing audibly. He looked first at Diablo himself, and then at the chestnut mare, Xena. Diablo saw the Time god blink, puzzled. He snuck a glance at Xena. What had she done to the old man? He felt Bristle's gaze shift to him again, and he looked up to meet the brute's eyes. Bristile scolded him for believing that being kind to Xena would have produce good effects. "No disagreement there." the fire-god muttered with a short nod of his sleek head.

"You both have two options: You can either stop bickering like old ladies, or I can carry you off to Hephaestus, have him chain you to a rock and give you over to Kalli so that she can give you a five hour sermon on loving one another. Your choice."

Diablo froze, eyes wide. "You're wouldn't." he said. Would he?

[.๑whovian๑.]

love the post.....but.....pssst....Bristile has dragon wings, so he doesn't have feathers xD. (s'all good though, just for future reference)

[.:.Gambler.:.]

OOC: She's not magnifying his remorse; she's projecting her own at him...

Xena
Forever the warrior princess...

His words made her blood boil ever hotter; it was not his remorse she had been trying to attack-for she knew such a heartless beast would never understand the trauma he caused. He had never been burned alive; and therefore would be daft in his reasoning. Her eyes glazed over almost with the utter desire to rid the world of his presence. Did he really think she was as stupid as he was? He was born into his god hood; Xena had ascended into it. No one had handed her a golden ticket into this world; she had earned her reputation herself.
The words that came to her mind were filled with venom. If Diablo was truly as strong as he thought he was-then why was he trying to get on the nice side of regret? If he had none; why did he bother dealing with her, parading around like he owned the world? Oh! How she wanted to see his whole body engulfed in the very flames he so loved to command. At least Xena had known who she commanded to be killed; she had commanded other living creatures. All Diablo did was send out flames to destroy everything to supposedly make room for new life.
She heard the rustle of wings, and knew that someone was approaching. Her malice and resentment for Diablo's belittlement would have to be summed into one statement for the brute to chew on.
"A life for a life, you daft boy."
She snorted, eyeing the skies for whatever had made the wing beats. It had not been the regular sound of an eagle or hawk; much heavier than that-as if it was lifting a massive tank off the ground. And surely; as she spotted the black spot across the sun-she knew what it was.

Though she had only seen Bristile once, Kallistei had told her of him; if only a little. His very existence was a paradox it seemed; he was the stitch in time that held the seams together. He was the epitome of the lonely old man that Xena would eventually become; and he had been the cause of the great uprising. Fear had been his creation; if only by accident. On account of what Xena knew of the god, she took a deep trembling breath and reigned in her power feeling the full weight of her own regret weighing heavily on her shoulders.
Unexpectedly, as Bristile landed, some of his regret seemed to be transposed onto Xena-perhaps from her drawing in her power so quickly. Xena trembled under the added weight, and nearly swooned. She hung her head to have another balance point, her mane falling in front of her eyes. Which was well enough; it hid the tears that welled in them.

Indeed-instead of Mount Everest sitting on her shoulders from her own sins, now crashing down on her was Mount Olympus; with all the gods parading happily upon it. Some of the weight of the regret from Bristile she understood; Ember for one; some of it she did not. There was confusion within his regret-for what she did not know. Try as she might to control herself, to summon her own strength and beat down Bristile's massive weight, she could not.

She barely heard the words he spoke-and in Bristile's presence, she knew she was nothing. She knew she had no purpose, no grand finale in this godhood. She would never become one of the greats like Kallistei or Bristile. She was a minor deity, who would never obtain worship or followers of any sort except of hatred. And she felt, for a flickering moment, that perhaps this was her purpose-to remove Bristile's burden by making it her own so that he could finally live again. What a sick joke you have played on me, Kallistei! If I had my chakram but still, I would send it for your head. She knew she would never actually have the courage to do any harm to the goddess of love; for Kallistei, it seemed, had been her only friend through life besides Gabrielle. A goddess of love would not subject any living soul to bear the burden that Xena now felt weighing her down-it must have been Xena's own power shift that had caused it.

She looked at Bristile through her forelock, her head still low. Her ears pounded with the sound of her own heartbeat, so she only heard bits a pieces. Diablo seemed to always have to get his piece in; and even with the burden that was weighing down on her it angered her. How dare he question Bristile's words, and mock him as if he was his equal? Diablo knew nothing of pain. If he knew not of regret, then he was no more horse than the blades of grass he claimed to be helping. Even knowing Bristile was standing in her way, she raked up strength to lunge at Diablo and end his miserable, meaningless existence as a god...

Only to find that under the weight of her regret and Bristile's combined, she could not so much as raise her head in that moment, much less launch herself over Bristile to attack the arrogant brute.

She looked up to Bristile, longing for a release from his pain. How could he bare it, when even she-the almighty goddess of regret, could barely stand under the weight (though it was certainly added on by her own.) She took a deep breath, and flicked her auds to listen to his speech. Even though he claimed to be so old, in that moment-in that breath of air-perhaps it was only because she wore his burden for the moment, she saw him as no older than herself. He was ageless, and yet he was still young-like her. Though time had withered him, he was nothing more than a colt, playing a game with his friends. For the first time since Hope had been born, Xena almost managed a smile. Almost.
His words then cut into her like a poison dagger; being kind to regret can often backfire quite horrendously. He spoke as if Xena wasn't there; as if she was an emotion and not a being. As if he loathed her existence to the core and did not want her to exist. Regret then almost washed away, she almost slammed all her regret into him-toppled the jenga pyramid on top of his old bag of bones...
But the weight of his regret weighed down on her. It crippled her to only stand there, watching as the two interacted. Tears stung at her eyes as she tried even to lift her head. Hopefully Bristile's massive form shielded Xena from Diablo's eyes-Bristile she could stand to see her like this. A ruddy child like Diablo, who had never tasted life, who had never tasted anything but his ill fated god hood, she would not. And if he did if he saw and muttered even a word of it to any living creature, even but a rock, she would have his head by that dawn. In all it's bloody glory, she would have his blood coating her body. She would wear his skull like a hat, and she would become the favorite consort of Ember.

The glass, it seemed, broke at that point. As Xena wrestled with the demonic hateful thought in her own mind, she knew she would surely lose. She would become the warlord she had wanted so horribly to kill, all over again. She herself was the key to winning. She had to overcome it, she had to regain herself. She stared the former self down in her mind, she stared long and hard, her gaze boring into it's very lifeblood-and in her thoughts, spoke softly to herself. I control you, you cannot control me. You are a part of me, but a past of me.
She felt herself lunge almost, but it was no more than a single balancing step in the real world. She felt a ripple run through her body, and she was whole again-the thought of killing Diablo so brutally was locked away again. He was too innocently stupid to die that way; she'd show him the pain he caused before she could end his existence. One had to understand what they were being slain for for the kill to be justified.

The weight of the two worlds, of mount olympus, of the eons of Bristile's regrets still rested on her shoulders. She would beg him later to take it back from her; for now perhaps Bristile could use the escape from his own burdens to teach Diablo a lesson or two. Although the weight did not change, she could feel her muscles rippling in response to her plea for them to work again. She raised her crown and looked to Brisitle, as he looked upon her. For a moment-she almost felt that their eyes met. Though his regret weighed on her shoulders, she could still see the sadness in his eyes. She felt a connection, a spark between them-but he looked away again and the moment faded. She was probably just imagining it anyway, since she was weighed down by a part of his past.
Her auds pinned back as she heard Diablo's last words in direction of Bristile, and she glared around Bristile at Diablo.
"Do you question the god of time? He knows all-past, present, and future, and you would be a fool to question what he would and wouldn't do, boy."
She added the last word with such malice, she thought it might slice Diablo in half. He was older than her, yes, but he was more naive then even Gabrielle had been when first Xena met her.
A pang of guilt washed over Xena at even thinking the golden fae's name. She strained to raise her head to be level with the two arrogant men, but she was shorter than both of them. At least she held her head high, as she looked upon Bristile. She used special care not to attack him with her powers, not to let the slightest trickle of the mount olympus sitting on her shoulder to trickle away toward Bristile. She had to give him a chance to stretch without such a weight on his shoulders; she could bare it for a moment longer.
And as her principle, having nothing rude to say to Bristile, she said nothing it all. Let him take her to Hap...er..whatever (she was horrible at his name) and let Kalli lecture her on the meaning of love.
If bearing such an extreme burden for Bristile, if what Xena went through to try and save Gabrielle was not love-then love didn't exist. It was a mixture of adoration and respect for Bristile; as a student felt for there first principal-never really there to teach you, but always in the background watching and shaking your hand when you won an award. Such an analogy (in regards to age) was lost on Xena however, for with his weight on her back (a fleeting girlish thought of wishing it was another type of weight crossed through her mind-though it did not last long enough to even register on her face), he still looked like a colt. He did not look weathered and old even though he claimed to be so; he was the ageless, the timeless, the god he was the first day he was given the title. No manner of flattery could describe what she saw in him in that moment. A strange school girl crush was forming in her chest- a feeling she never thought she would feel again after Borias.
But then the waves of it all came crashing down again, and she remembered Solan, his untimely death, and the passing feeling washed away.
No. Bristile was no more than someone standing in her way of the enemy, Diablo. Still she held her power back, her head nearly throbbing with the pressure of keeping all the weight; it seemed of all the oceans in the world trying to suspend it in a tidal wave.
"Humpity Dumpity would be as good as new, if only he saw what I could do to you."

Words: O.o Told you Xena could run away with it.
Muse: XD I have no idea what just happened, but it was good.
OOC: So, to shorten concept: Xena feels a deep burning loathing for Diablo, but when Bristile comes she draws back her power so rapidly she accidentally pulls the regret of Bristile off of him and onto herself. She fights with herself a little in her mind, and then she breaks free of it, stares at Bristile lovingly, remembers Gabrielle and her son Solan, and goes back to her cold deameanor, and in a very strange way, warns Bristile to be weary of her-but not so much threatening him as it sounds on the surface but as to say "holy crap I'm going to break under this pressure and whatever I just took off of you is going to crash back down on you. But I'm more cryptic then that, and so you'll have to think on that one...old man."
Got it?

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[.๑whovian๑.]

OMG! Loved it.....poor Xena.....yeah, Bristile has a LOT of regrets in his loooonnggg.....loooonnnnggggg.... life.

hehe.....

post soon.

[Deleted]

Oh alright @ Khan
Diablo is not feeling his regret, by the way. He used Xena's regret that she was sending at him to keep his anger at bay.

[.:.Gambler.:.]

OOC: ...goldy, that's not how the power works. Diablo is a fire god...not a bending of emotions god. Xena's regret has nothing to do with diablo's anger therefore it does not transfer. That's downright back handed god moding and bending the rules.

Thanks for disrespecting the two hours it took me to create Xena, I really love being told that my characters don't work the way I made them too. It'd be like me telling you that Diablo's power doesn't work beneath Xena's hooves because the weight of her regret smolders them.

I was peeved by you ignoring it. But to say he has the ability to manipulate it, even though it was NEVER justified because he is a FIRE god-a god of material existence NOT immaterial of emotion, has thoroughly annoyed me. I respected Diablo's power, even if Xena does belittle him for it, and you go and twist my own with a half baked excuse.

Thanks, thanks a lot. I JUST LOVE IT.

There are several things wrong with him being able to "using" Xena's power:

1. As he said, he has no regrets. Therefore, he does not know the feeling of regret, and it would therefore be alien to him. You can't exactly manipulate something alien without a decent exploration of it.
2. As I just said before, he's a MATERIAL god-he controls something you can see and touch (though you'd be wise not to), NOT an immaterial god of emotion-something you cannot see or touch.
3. It goes against what you said in an earlier post: "I think we both know that you speak wrongly, Xena. Neither of us know about feeling anything but what out god status grants us." Therefore he has no power over regret.

4. It would require him to have the ability to feed off another's energy. Which, according to his character log, he does not. His power, as quoted from your character log: "The ability to control fire and lightning" Does that sound like bending emotion to you?
5. Explain to me how that first paragraph of your post even REMOTELY touches on him using it to quell his regrets. As you said
"The regret rolling off of Xena in waves affected him. It really did. Oh yes, quite a lot, but Diablo set his jaw and shoved the feeling aside as easily as he was swatting at a fly with his tail. Regret was not needed. Not for him. He had nothing in his past to regret in the first place, and it seemed that Xena was unaware of that. "
Oh yes, because that TOTALLY means he was feeling the full weight of Xena's regret because he can just brush it off that easily? If he has never felt regret before, if he has no regrets, how can he possibly have NO reaction to having the regret of KILLING HUNDREDS brush off that easily? Unless, Xena's accusations are true, and he is truly heartless; even more so: having a black hole in place of his heart. Which, goes against the proclamation in his personality: "I am prone to love and passion, for the same fire that fuels anger and rage, fuels this ability to love." You kind of have to have a heart to have control over such passion, don't you? Regret isn't passion. It's an ache.

7. So, if what you say is true, could you please elaborate just a TEENSY bit more about how exactly he "uses" her power? Cause that's frankly not a good enough explanation for me. And if you expect me to bend down to Diablo and say he is almighty and all knowing, you don't know me very well.
So. Explain this claim of him "using" her power so people NOT inside your head can understand, or accept you were wrong in the first place, stop fighting and change it, OR GET OUT OF MY THREAD WITH YOUR "INVINCIBLE" CHARACTER. It's as simple as that.

8. And since I asked for an explanation, let me explain a little myself.
First off, in his first sentence:
"The regret rolling off of Xena in waves affected him."
a. It's not "rolling" off of her when she is jabbing it into him like when you get your blood drawn. You see, it's more like she's jabbing the needle into your arm to try and find the vein. As you watch, you see it wriggling around under the skin and can see it scrapping against the muscle. Or, it's like a mortar shell going off and blowing off all of his limbs at once. No "rolling" on the ground to get off the fire. It's like an intravenous catheter overloading you with fluids. Making your eyes swim as you gasp for air because your lungs are filled with fluid. Like you're drowning.
Your second sentence: "It really did. Oh yes, quite a lot, but Diablo set his jaw and shoved the feeling aside as easily as he was swatting at a fly with his tail."
Xena's regret is not a fly. It's a tidal wave that swallowed the lost city of Atlantis. It's Mount Vesuvius raining down and encasing everyone of Pompei in ash. Try to swat away a tidal wave, I'm sure that will go over real well with a fire god.
And, as it sounds to me, the "oh yes, quite a lot" sounds really sarcastic. If he was actually feeling it, I know you can elaborate it far better than that. Instead of mocking Xena.

Next section:" Regret was not needed. Not for him. He had nothing in his past to regret in the first place, and it seemed that Xena was unaware of that."

Please explain HOW that does not say it's amblifying his past regrets. It even says "he has nothing in his past to regret."
To explain myself: Xena doesn't have to be "aware" of his past regrets, because she's not using them. She's using her own, the weight of Mount Everest, the weight of the entirety of the polar ice caps (if global warming wasn't melting them away), just got shoved onto him. All of her memories of the regret, everyone she killed, screaming for mercy in his mind. He doesn't have his own regrets; he just got washed over with Xena's.

So, I've explained Xena's power as best as I possibly can and how it is not possible, and how it is TOTAL disregard for the power and COMPLETE AND UTTER god moding on your part to be able to "use" her power, now explain, or elaborate your post, or both.

And as a side add on:
You said in the c-box:

22 Nov 11, 02:39 PM
Goldy: Noooooo, I MEAN, when Xena was trying to get Diablo to feel the power of regret, that he didn't try to block it out and was able to contol his anger, Khanny
Goldy: because if he focused on THAT and not ANGER, then he wouldn't get mad

That does not answer any questions, it only raises more. See, in your post, it made no mention of focusing on the regret, he brushed it off like a fly, remember?
And, if he "felt it" to use it, why then, in your last post above this one, did you say he didn't feel it?

And perhaps my rant is unwarranted, and you are in fact, not making excuses, just explaining your post, I still don't see it, because frankly, the two sentences about it in the post don't make enough sense to justify what you are saying. You put far more detail into him breaking into second long silences to speak, before he's heard everything they have to say and not allowing them to react because it already happened since you're saying it in the middle of the previous horses' post where they talk again, instead of him just listening and reacting as a whole, then you do to this.

That's what confounds me the post. Is it's unequally focused upon, that then requires hours of deliberation to understand the meaning, instead of just spending an extra fifteen minutes putting it in there in the first place.

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[.๑whovian๑.]

Bristile

Despite Bristile's intervention, he noticed that his efforts seemed not to be working too well. However, when his presence was known, he had a very strange sensation. It was like something was lifted from his back, a heavy weight torn from his mind, as it had been stuck there so long. It was like holding up the weight of a mountain for a thousand years and suddenly it was lifted from your back. He was so shocked by this sensation, that he actually started slightly. It probably seemed odd to the other two, but it could not be helped. He almost looked around childishly, wondering where it had gone, but he managed to catch himself. Thousands of years of memory, and he still felt like a child sometimes.

Diablo seemed rather...on edge. It seemed like he was trying not to explode, but at the same time, he seemed rather calm. Though Bristile was no king of emotion, he could practically feel the rough waves of hatred coming from Xena, it almost seemed to pulse through the air, and Bristile was surprised that Diablo didn't dissolve before her ruthless gaze. It seemed as though she would have been rather content to rip his head off and then rip his head into tiny pieces...and so on. However, as much as he would have loved to watch the two of them fight, he was not in the mood for somebody to explode. However, he was also not in the mood for bothering Kalli either, so he decided to handle it his own way. Well, actually, he would have loved to have gone back in time, intervened earlier and stopped this whole thing from escalating in the first place (and he would have done it) except there was that nagging instinct of his that told him not too.

However, as he tried to figure out how to neutralize the situation, he realized what the mountain off his back was. He was experienced, one of the eldest gods, as he was Time, and had all it's memories, past and future, to know what the powers of the Gods to do. He also knew, that sometimes a young God's powers may backfire on themselves. He realized, that when she had seen him, she had pulled off her mountain of regret which she had been throwing at Diablo so quickly that she had accidentally pulled his own on top of herself. And Bristile had more regret than the entire mortal race put together. So many lives lost because of him, so many dead, so many lives destroyed, and so much pain. All because of him, because he just kept moving on. Xena had taken all of that on top of herself, and it was a wonder it didn't crush her.

He now turned his attention to Diablo, and focused on his words. Even though most of them were directed at Xena, he listened. Diablo was fighting back an explosion, with remarkable ease...Bristile narrowed his eyes a bit. Was he, or was he not affected by Xena's power? How could he not be? True, his regrets did not run as deep as Bristile's, but surely there must have been something. Then again, he was a curious beast. However, Bristile was distracted by Diablo's reply to his banter. His eyes flashed, but he made no reply, and chose not to respond to the young God's words, however he allowed a small smile out of the corner of his eye directed at the God.

"Come now Diablo," Bristile said fairly. "Though forest fires bring new life, they take life as well. Mortals live in fear of your power, as they rightfully should, but I am afraid you cannot claim having no deaths upon your hands, even though it is a natural cause."

Xena was firing cannonballs at the young god at present, and he couldn't help but smile as she protected him against Diablo's insults to him. He liked her respect for him, and he liked her....she was good at coming up with insults. That much he knew. However, he realized that his words had not been the best of choice, as crafty as he could be in using them. It seemed as though Xena's mind was capable of forming only insults for her mouth at the moment, so she did not have anything to say to Bristile. Diablo muttered something about no disagreement in response to his scolding. Bristile did not respond, however at the young god's fear at the prospect of a lecture from Kalli made him chuckle.

"No, I am far too keen on doing little to do such a thing as track down our lovely friend Kalli," Basically, he had just told them he was far too lazy, though he tried not to say it outright. He hoped that Diablo and Xena would not react on his words. "However, my point still stands." Bristile wasn't sure if his efforts were working, or if either one was calming down, however he decided not when Xena's last comment rang through the air, and he couldn't help it - he laughed. She was such a mystery, he wanted to get to know her. But something told him it wasn't that simple. In the way she looked at him, in the way she was acting, he could tell that she was not the sort of mare whom....well, she was...odd.


As he looked at her, he realized that the burden of his regret must still be weighing on her. He had to get it back, because she was suffering. Bristile was used to the mountain of regret, and as much as he liked having it gone, he could not bear to see her suffer so terribly. He also knew how to get his regret back. It was a trick that being a long suffering and ancient God tends to come in handy for. He closed his eyes briefly (he was always checking time-streams like this so it wasn't unusual for him), and his mind wandered in time. He saw himself landing, and saw Xena's reaction to his landing. This time, he prepared himself, and felt all his regret, and all his power, and imagined himself pulling his mountainous load back upon his own shoulders. It worked. There is no nice way of bringing a mountain of regret back on top of yourself, but he could handle it. He winced slightly, internally but showed little, if any of the pain it caused him. Without thinking about it, he shrank to his normal horse size and color, his copper chestnut coat sparkling.

words;1100 ish
muse; GREAT
notes; yay! okay so if I misinterpreted anything please let me know, I'm rather tired so I could have screwed something up a teensy bit. Hope you all enjoy!!!!
*Note - Bristile merely changed his own response in his own time line, and weird as it is, Xena will feel the lift right now because even though he went back in time, it was technically still at that moment...if that make sense.

[.:.Gambler.:.]

Goldy...it's been a week...I'm impatient when it comes to Xena. If you haven't posted by the weekend, I'm going ahead and posting.