Mutants & Masterminds: Divine Intervention - [Divine Intervention] Ain't No Sunshine

[Kalanea McKay]

Kalanea wasn't sure she'd ever be warm again.

In the great, industrialized nations of the northern hemisphere, people huddled in their homes with their lights on and their heat running, gas bills be damned. In less fortunate places where fossil fuels were restricted, they huddled in public gathering spaces by day - town halls or village pubs, schools and temples and churches - places that were allowed to operate as centers of warmth for the general populace. At night, they huddled together in their homes under blankets, girls and boys and teenagers and stuffed animals all sleeping in a big pile together, mothers and fathers doing what adults do to stay warm once their children were asleep. No doubt there would be a record number of October babies born this year!

But beyond that, there were smaller places. Hidden mountain villages with tiny paths, blocked by snow and ice. Tiny, unindustrialized communities that survived by the skin of their teeth and the sweat of their brow, maintaining stewardship over the land. These are the places that would have once been decimated by this sort of darkness, and the cold temperatures that accompanied it. It was to those areas that Kalanea traveled, transporting fuel, oil, generators, heat lamps, and firewood. There were places she could fly to, but other places where the snow and ice and wind and darkness made travel by air nearly impossible. To these places she walked, faster than any mortal could, carrying heavier loads than most could dream of. For it was these far-away places, these buried pockets of humanity, that Kalanea was most in love with. She visited with them, took their pictures, cooed over their babies. She ate with them, and sang with them, and was one of them.. for the daughter of Hermes took as much delight in a meal of seasoned goat stew as she did fine French cuisine, and she enjoyed the simple song of the hearth as much as the most elaborate symphonies.

It was in one of these mountain villages that her father found her, curled up with a blanket in the corner of the main living space of one of the village elder women and her family, a widowed daughter-in-law and her three grandchildren. It was they who had offered a place for Kali to sleep last night, after she arrived late with a large shipment of coal and firewood for their stoves, and tins of lamp oil to keep the villagers from going stir-crazy.

It was dark outside.. not as if that meant anything, it had been dark for days now. But it was the time for darkness, int he wee small hours of the morning, when Hermes appeared to his daughter, the last of the twelve he bore messages for. Her shook her awake gently, though she had begun to stir at his presence. She blinked at him blearily, then sat up, whispering softly so as not to wake her hosts.

"Daddy? What's up?"

He said nothing, offering her only a small smile, and pressing a finger to his lips softly. Then he handed her the envelope, and disappeared. Her gaze flickered around the little home, as if searching for him, and then she shook her head, glanced down at the letter, and flicked it open with her fingertips. There was a flash of light, and then she found herself, curled up in the lounge chair in Central Park, still wrapped up in the roughly-woven wool blanket of her elder host. She blinked again, a little disoriented, and took a moment to look around her surroundings.. to take in the large buildings over the tree line of the park, the particular skyline that was undeniably New York, and the cabal of demi-godlings that were gathered around her.

"Hey guys. What's going on?"

Apparently, not even the daughter of the Messenger knew for sure what they were doing there.

[Valentine Cormack]

Krysti snapped her mouth shut, shooting the grinning, pale-skinned Valentine a cute scowl. Krysti sat back down in her lounge chair, her deceptively compact weight making her sink deep. She considered just leaving, but wanted to find out why they got whisked here in the first place.

"Me yelling is better than me deciding to start throwing things and breaking things," the divinely strong young woman muttered, her hands balled into fists on the arms of the chair. "And if I'm too loud for the dead, they're free to leave."

There was only one dead person Krysti was concerned with and that was her mother. She hoped, when she visited her mother's grave, she could hear her. Her eyes narrowed on the handsome, pale man.

"Who're you, anyway?"

Who am I?, Valentine kept his smirk but it seemed a bit friendlier now after watching her scowl which he indeed found cute, a rather unusual experience for him.

“I usually don’t get invited to these kind of parties. I’m your typical ‘plus one’, so I was hoping you might tell me. You look very important and your huffing and puffing certainly demands attention... I suppose.”, he was starting to enjoy himself which reflected in his nonchalant way to dangle one leg over his chairs arm.

“As to who I am – My name is Val, nice to meet you. As to what is going on? If I was paranoid I’d assume that we have a mole because there’s only one person who seems not surprised by our sudden appearance to this place.”, Val pointed at Maia as he explained. “That broad over there and she delievered a very spot on explanation as to what is probably going on.”

Val then shifted his attention to Sly and pointed at him as he kept explaining, “If you believed him in the PJs on the other side, there might be an alien invasion – with all the going to space talk and all, you know?”, Val shrugged at that, though. He didn’t care what was the likelier explanation. He was having a bit of fun, that was a welcomed change. The living don’t talk much to him.

[Darrik Reynolds]

"I know. Praxis knows, Moira knows." Darrik admittedly reluctantly, but thankful Puck was doing the opposite of pulling away. His arms tightened around Puck to comfort him. "I have no idea about the rest." His lips were far more cautious as they kissed Puck's, a far cry from the usual raunchiness, a sure sign of his hesitancy that Puck was not going to turn on him.

"They didn't want to send you away... because. Eros and Psyche thought it would be unfair for the comparisons... to be constantly brought up on Olympus. Honestly, I found it it hard to think of telling you, even though you turned 18."

[Shosuro Miren]

He kissed Darrik back after only a half-moment's hesitation. It wasn't that he was really angry with Darrik - nor had he had the time or presence of mind to make the genealogical connections Darrik already had - no, it was simply that things were very strange this week and after finding out who his biological parents were, Puck was a little distracted. Still in the makeshift shared coat of blankets, Puck glanced back over at the crowd of milling divines. "Well, whoever set this up doesn't seem to mind...."

He blinked and frowned at another flash of light, then smiled when he recognized the sleepy figure. "At least we know most of the people here. Look, Laney's the last one." He pointed to her curled-up figure and snaked an arm around Darrik's waist to keep them together. "We should go back over, say hi, see if anyone knows what's going now."

He was still hesitant, unsure of being included in this company of metaphysical movers and shakers, but it was what it was. If nothing else, Ecstasy was divinely suited to going with the flow.

[Maia]

Broad?! The word stuck in the mind of the eighteen year old daughter of Zeus, and she couldn't stifle her chuckle at the use of such an archaic term. "No mole, I've no exact idea why we're all called. I've just been called before."

She shook her head. "Though it was always by myself."

She focused her cerulean blue eyes on Val and smiled. "That "broad" has a name, Maia, I'd prefer if you simply use that next time."

[Valentine Cormack]

Must've struck a chord there..., Val smiled to himself. "Well, Maia, thanks for letting me know. Being called before doesn't really make you any more trustworthy, though. But since you seem so experienced - what happened next, when you were called? Helped an old lady across the street? I wonder what kind of task would need the twelve of us? I suppose Zeus needs a larger humproom or something. Maybe some shingles are loose and need fixing. Wow, I'm thrilled."

Val clapped his hands and rubbed them in a mock fake display of excitement.

"But you could still be a mole, honey.", he raised an eyebrow at her with yet another smirk but his voice sounded at least friendly.

[Sandman XI]

Time stops. Nothing else happens. Or does it?

Note from the GM

Do not post in this thread until otherwise noted.

[z016]

For a week now, Re had been absent and Ma'at had been upset at Philae and throughout the world. Manetho-Khawy, formerly Jalil Farzheed, high priest of Isis and leader of the Order of Mysteries at Philae had ordered all members of the Order not attending to Darius to study the sky or attend on rituals to Re, looking for some way to restore the balance of nature. The young god-blooded had wondered that they still continued the Rituals of Day, as there was no day, but Manetho-Khawy had said that if balance was to be restored and Re returned from the Duat, every effort had to be made to create the Ma'at that had been disturbed.

Darius still found it strange, but as the high priest often reminded him, he was young and there was still much left to learn.

So for seven days he kept to the same rituals that had defined his entire life: greeting the sun Khepri in the morning, dedicating the morning to the study of Thoth through reading and lectures from the Order, taking repast at noon and saying prayers to Re, spending the afternoon in deference to Ptah, making crafts for use in the temple, leading the ritual of Khunum at sunset, using the evenings for whatever dedications or observances were appropriate to the day and month, and having the night mostly to himself to think and explore his own understanding, and then to greet the sun Khepri in the morning. Only this week it was not the sun the guided his day, but an electronic clock that told when the sunrise should have been and the sunset, too.

On the seventh day, he had just finished the prayers to Re, when the sky began to light. The gathered Order took a collective breath, hoping that balance had finally been restored after a week of endless night. Then the sun appeared, dripping red like blood and shining a sickly amber light over the island. Darius stood statue-still in a horrified shock. It is worse than darkness. What has happened to Re?

Several members of the Order cried out and covered their eyes, others bent low and whispered fervent prayers of protection against evil. Manetho-Khawy stared at the sun, it's light too weak to scar his eyes for the moment; the aging man, now sliding reluctantly into his seventies, paled and raised a hand to his lips.

"Manetho-Khawy, what is this?" Darius finally found his voice, though it was shaky and reed-thin. "How can this be?"

"I do not know, Xeper," he replied quietly. "We must-"

The second god to appear before the Order did not come in mist and a haze of incense, as Isis had. Instead, the golden-haired youth was simply there one moment when he had not been the moment before. He appeared next to Darius on the raised platform where the winged boy said his prayers and made his offering on behalf of the order to the ntr. He glanced up at the sky then back to Darius, speaking gently but firmly, "You are called, Darius of Philae."

Darius felt a hand touch one of his wings and then a feeling of movement-without-moving; he blinked and his home was gone. For those left on the island of Philae, the day was twice-cursed: the sun was bleeding and the ntr had taken their beloved god.