Rain, rain and even more rain. Three days has it been since it started, seeming like out of nowhere. The village would be flooded, if not located on a mountainside. Heavy drops hit the dirt, flinging mud away, like someone’s digging with a shovel. Midst the storm, two figures stand behind a curved glass panel, within a circular, temple like building. Both white clad with wide hoods, so not even a strain of hair can be seen.
“Well, that’ll be fun to clean the walls once the weather settled down.”
“Yep, that’s what happens when give an offering to Kelive, that was meant for Caldrou.”
“Who decided to build everything off marble and not something darker, so the dirt can’t be seen to easily?”
“White resembles purity and neutrality. We are here to calm all the gods. Picking a color might let them guess we prefer one.”
“I’d prefer the one that doesn’t drown us in wrath, because of one mistake…”
The storm rages on, tearing on trees, ripping of branches, flinging them wildly at hard stone. One cannot see far. The bloated clouds lie around the mountains like a deep blue veil. Not a soul in sight outside their home and those who are unfortunate enough to leave in must, are drenched withing moments.
“That’s not wrath my friend. She’s crying, crying for her lost son.”
“I thought the gods cannot bear children.”
“Not on their own, no. Her son, abandoned at a young age, she adopted. He was very wild in nature, not really minding manners, unfitting as a relative of a god, but he fought great battles. From a young age on he grew his ferocity and soon, whole armies, felled and slain, by him alone. He soon was entitled ‘The immortal beast’ and his name-“
A loud, crashing thunder strike hits the ground, not too far from the village and more follow.
“His name was Gerash.”
“That name, isn’t that…”
“Yes, the aquamarine scales we offer Caldrou, to celebrate his victory, are those of Gerash, the immortal hydra.”
(I write these as my participation in the June writing event from @the.plottery on ig)
© Dehaka 2022-06-21