Story: Piqumi - Nostalgia

*Main Article: Piqumi*

14th of Nyara's Summer, 1221 AW.

Mortals across Enselonde look towards the Divines with envy. How they wish they could spend even a single day as a Divine. Yet, the grass is always greener on the other side. Some Divines want more simplicity, to be a nobody for a day, yet there is no escape from the worshippers, pilgrims, beggars, opportunists, and the idealistic fools.

Piqumi stood in the Grass Sea, with not a soul around. In the distance, far away, a few lights flickered in the dark as the last Naerisi farmers settled down for the evening. She would come here more often than she'd like to admit. The Grass Sea was so empty, so quiet, so... peaceful. She could just put Zaelphar on guard duty and simply leave. However, these quiet moments were always tainted by the day that would come after, another day full of petitioners and pilgrims.

The Goddess let out a sight, listening to the sound of nothingness. The grass swaying in the gently blowing wind and the chirps of crickets. Yet, the sounds didn't have their usual effect. Deep down, she was lonely. She was nostalgic for simpler times, before the Great War, before the Divine War, when the Divines worked together. Yet, all of that fell apart, and she only had one friend left, Cynda Wintersong. Or at least, that was before Syarus killed her. Now, she was truly all alone.

And yet, she longed for contact with a fellow Divine. Anyone would do at this point, even that fool Onir. Yet, the Divines weren't looking to be friendly in these times. Piqumi couldn't blame them. Syarus had already killed so many, and how many more were still to come was anyone's guess. However, one option remained, albeit a rather unorthodox one. Piqumi looked up, gazing at the stars, and considered the option.

Whitecrest didn't have the same aura as during the day. The chaos between the League and the Syndicate seemed to disappear entirely as a quiet but temporary peace fell over the City of Freedom. In the dimly lit streets of the Port District wandered a seemingly ordinary man. Nobody bothered to get a good look at him, as he was no different from the others walking the street. This man peered through the windows of the various taverns and pubs, watching as the sailors of Whitecrest drank and sang and laughed and danced. Yet, the man was looking for a specific tavern.

Before long, he found the place, a very nice establishment. Too nice for the man to get into, yet he entered the tavern anyway. Once inside, he was immediately stopped by a giant of a man.

"*No place for commoners,*" he simply said, ushering the man out the door. However, before the strange man was shoved out of the establishment, he made brief eye contact with a figure in the room. A beautiful man surrounded by half a dozen women. Eitrius, the God of Fun and Pleasure; the Artisan. Once the man was back on the street, the door shut behind him; he didn't wander far. He walked over to a railing that overlooked the vast port of Whitecrest. The waves gently flowed in and out of the port, the ships bobbing up and down as a handful of dockworkers and fishermen walked around.

Lost in thought, the man barely noticed when Eitrius leaned over the railing next to him, taking in a deep breath of the salty air. Neither one said anything, simply enjoying the view. It was Eitrius who broke the silence first after a minute.

"*Why did you come?*" the God asked.

"*I don't even know myself,*" the man replied.

"*I could sense you approaching the moment you teleported over here,*" Eitrius said with a grin, "*For a moment, I thought you were Syarus, here to finally bring an end to the infamous Eitrius. Imagine my surprise when it's you that walks through the door,*"

"*I missed you,*" Piqumi replied, her poor disguise slowly fading away, "*I don't think I appreciated you enough back before... well, everything.*"

"*Why I've had thousands of women tell me they miss me, but I never expected those words coming from **you***," Eitrius responded, a grin from ear to ear. However, deep down, he had felt the same way, although he'd never admit that. "*So, sick of being courted, huh?*" he continued, "*I get it. You think I'd be infamous by now for ignoring mortal requests, yet they still keep coming. How many pilgrims do you get nowadays?*"

"*Hundreds. Sometimes thousands,*" she replied, staring off far into the distance, where she could faintly detect Sylvir's powers deep beneath the ocean.

"*You know what you need?*" the God asked, waiting for a reply that didn't come, "*You need a night off.*"

Eitrius stumbled back into the bar, dragging Piqumi with him. He climbed onto a table, kicking over a patron's beer on accident, but he didn't care. "*Good people of Whitecrest!*" he announced as the room fell silent. Piqumi tried to take a step back, to get out of sight, but it was no use. She knew exactly what he was about to say.

"*This fine lady over here is Piqumi,*" he said, pointing towards her. She could feel hundreds of eyes staring at her, yet Eitrius continued with a smile, "*That's the Fatemaker for you lot. Now, she's a swordfish out of water here, but if I see any of you lot begging her for favors I'll curse you myself.*"

The room remained silent as people began frantically whispering. Piqumi wished she could just sink through the ground and briefly considered teleporting straight back to Ostland. Yet, Eitrius grabbed her by the hand again and dragged her to where he was sitting earlier. His entourage of women approached him once more, but he dismissed them.

A bartender approached and set down a fine glass of red wine. "*Have a drink on me*," said Eitrius, "Or two. Or three!" he laughed.

"*I didn't come here to get drunk on cheap booze,*" Piqumi replied, carefully sipping at her glass.

"*Cheap booze?! I'll have you know, Fatemaker, that what you're drinking right there is some of the finest wine to ever come out of Toscov!*" he said in mock offense, his grin being a dead giveaway, "*Besides, getting drunk is the only thing to do in Whitecrest. It's either that or getting killed by gang members,*" he said, half-joking and half-serious.

"*A charming location to make your home,*" Piqumi replied softly before taking another sip, slowly forgetting about all the people staring at her.

"*Well, you get used to it. Whitecrest has a charm to it that's unique in Enselonde. Trust me, I've been to every corner of the world, but this is the best place by far. Besides-*"

"*Fatemaker!*" a man shouted at the two Divines, "*Please, you must help us! My wife is sick, and I-*" the patron said before being grabbed by one of the guards and dragged out of the tavern. Eitrius stared at the commotion, genuinely speechless for a change, while Piqumi was reminded that the entire room was still staring at her.

"*Alright, I think I'm starting to understand why you snuck away,*" said the God in an uncharacteristically serious tone. Piqumi didn't have an answer and just gave him a bittersweet smile, "*I think I know what your problem is,*" Eitrius continued, his eyes burning with determination, "*And what is my problem?*" Piqumi replied, entertaining the clearly drunk God before her.

"*You're lonely! All you do is sit in your palace and listen to people complain and beg all day. You need someone to talk to. A Divine Offspring or two should do the trick,*" he said with confidence.

"*Divine Offspring?!*" Piqumi practically shouted, not believing her ears, "*What, you're not suggesting that we...*"

"*What? No, no! Unless **that** is why you came to Whitecrest. No, just create one yourself.*" he responded defensively.

"*I've never really considered it,*" Piqumi replied before finishing her drink.

"*Well, you should! I have Offspring in the thousands. It's always fun to see where they end up,*" he replied, apparently proud of his gross misuse when it came to creating Divine Offspring.

"*I... don't think I'll be making that many,*" she replied before Eitrius refilled her glass with a devious smile.

"*The night is still young, Fatemaker.*"