Written Wonderland

Chris had fallen to his knees, braced intently against the ground as though he might also fall forward, and for a few heavy moments, the goddess worried she had asked too much of him. The goddess fought a temptation to give him a path out of her request, but she let it stand--she needed to let this play out.

At last, Chris straightened, sat back on his knees, and flexed his hand one way and then the other, loosening it after the tense position he had been in. And then, with a deep breath, he began to sing. She had expected him to repeat the song that he had sung for the ceremony, but after a few bars, she knew it was something different. The melody was still melancholy, full of longing, but the air of hope rescued the song from despair and quickly caught from Chris to one of the other volunteers once the chorus began.

They sang:

The road is long; Our feet are worn--
still, we carry this oath we've sworn.
We raise our hands to feel the sun,
Grateful we walk with everyone
Eyes up, swords down
One day we'll pass that crown around
Tips sharp, pain dull
seeking peace in all of our souls

At the line about the crown, the goddess smirked, understanding that this was a song the rebel army surely had written since the civil war had begun. A pleasure indeed to hear out of their mouths directly that King Ceric's days were numbered.

Though the verses of the song varied somewhat, the chorus remained a strong throughline, and by the time the second chorus began, all the volunteers were singing, though some of them were quieter than others.

Once the song had solidified, Dehaljadrun started at one end of the curved line the volunteers had naturally formed, smirking again as she placed a hand on the back of Lance's neck. Gently, she closed her eyes and pressed in toward his mind, searching for memories of his offering. The sound of the primordial cry echoed in the goddess internal soundscape, and she opened her eyes with a light gasp, looking into his eyes. Collecting herself, she closed her mouth and eyes once more.

Lance, she said in the man's mind, having learned his name. Welcome. I accept your gift. The goddess smirked once again as she reached around toward his backside to touch the place where his sigil lay, sending pulses of pleasure from that part of his body all throughout.

((OOC: Unless Lance stops her, she's going to move onto Philip, and it would be helpful to know what Philip is feeling right now. I'm assuming they will all keep singing throughout except maybe when the goddess is directly touching them, but maybe even then. Whatever makes sense.

Also, I'm not super attached to the lyrics, and I feel like the last two lines could be better, so I'm open to ideas if you have them. <3

And, so that the order is written down somewhere, Dehaljadrun is starting from the right side going left and will touch Lance, Philip, Novelty, Gavin, Raccoon, (skip Chris), Nick, Nathan, Trevor, Chloe, return to Chris, then probably Evan.))

Lance's singing wavered when the goddess walked up to him, thrill and nervousness dancing and swirling every which way within him. She smirked, even, and Lance couldn't help mirroring the expression, his chin tilting subtly up in an instinctive attempt to exude confidence despite the storm of butterflies in his stomach, and he did his best to remuster his participation in the song. He fell altogether silent when she touched him, though, the caress of her fingers against the back of his neck pulling a soft gasp from him as he swayed subtly forward. The goddess herself seemed to gasp, her eyes meeting his, and pure pleasure seemed to pulse through him, longing finally bringing an ache to his awareness. His nerves were positively alive, and he might have reached out to touch her had his attention not been pulled more inward, stilling him and helping him to feel surprisingly rooted, if only for a moment.

Lance. It was like the goddess spoke straight into his mind. Perhaps she had. There was no point in disbelieving anything at this point, right? Lance closed his eyes, awash in a brief but potent chill of vertigo as he opened himself to her, a vision coming unbidden of his arms spread wide as he allowed himself to fall backward into a refreshing pool of water. His whole body shivered pleasantly, and his fingers discharged the last of that wave of sensation with gentle dances on his thighs.

Welcome. I accept your gift.

At that, a laugh of pure joy bubbled up from deep within him, tears beginning to well in his eyes. All that worry from the past day and a half, all that stress trying to figure out something perfect, and in the end, an impulsive nostalgic croon had been more than enough. He was nearly dizzy with relief and gratitude, and he felt ridiculously close to weeping, though he held it at bay with a careful, spacious exhale--albeit betraying unsteady breath.

Then, the goddess' fingers found his backside where the pristess had drawn his sigil and the shimmer had buried warmth into his skin, and more pulses of pure pleasure flooded his nerves, pulling a moan past his lips, eyelids fluttering. His hands finally reached for the goddess, his knees growing weak and a swell of fear rising in him that he might altogether stumble to the ground without bracing. Briefly, he fantasized about kissing her, imagining everyone's eyes on him as they'd been on Evan moments prior. But, something stilled him, and he caught his breath and steadied himself, loosening his grasp on the goddess as he collected some sense of composure. He found her eyes and smiled to her, his lips in a playful smirk but his eyes soft and grateful, tears finally spilling over and wetting his cheeks.

((OOC: I think on some level he knows that the fantasy of kissing her and being the center of attention would put him in a self-conscious, performative sort of headspace in actuality right now, though he's probably not consciously identifying that. I figure there's some amount of sensing the goddess being about ready to move on, too, and I think he's at peace with that at this point.

Happy to post for Philip, too, but figured I'd go ahead and post what I had here for Lance.))

Lance's joy at her acceptance bubbled out into her, making her think of the way she might relax into her sacred pool of the tree and lose her body to the pleasure there. His unsteady breath pleased her almost as much as the moan that followed as pleasure pulsed in thick purple waves through their overlapping mindscapes. As his balance grew unsteady, Lance reached for Dehaljadrun's arms, potently communicating his fantasy of her kissing him the way she had kissed Evan, complete with the audience. She was tempted to indulge his fantasy--she liked the effervescent taste of his pleasure--but there was a spiking yellow-green edge of uncertainty to the image, making it difficult for Dehaljadrun to trust that it was actually what Lance wanted.

As though understanding each other, Lance had already begun loosening his grip on her, and she opened her eyes to find him looking at her. He smiled, reciprocating her earlier smirk, though tears still fell from his eyes and wet his cheeks. No matter how confused his fantasies were, he was still grateful to be here. And, really, that was all she wanted. They could figure the rest of it out together. They had plenty of time.

Gently, she nodded and pulled away from him completely, turning her attention to Philip, who was singing perhaps most softly of all. She took a deep breath to steady herself as she took a step toward him, allowing her awareness to expand to include him and sense into whether he wanted her touch and attention. Though he was a roiling set of confused emotions--light blues of gratitude that matched Lance's, grayish black threads of jealousy, yellow spikes of fear, purple-pink swirls of love, and a tightly held ball of orange excitement--Dehaljadrun did not believe he wanted her to stay away from him entirely.

With care, she closed the distance between him, taking the back of his neck into her hand and leaning her forehead toward his as though he were a treasured friend.

Philip, I am grateful you've come back, she said into his mind. Though she meant it, the goddess saw in her peripheral awareness a yellow-green edge emerge around her own mindscape, and she worried Philip could feel it. She tried again, reaching down to touch the sigil on his low belly and abandoning words to send him an image instead, one of her prostrating herself at his feet. Through his sigil, she pulsed a cloud-like swirl of care through him, something akin to what Dehaljadrun imagined of a mother's love, as the sensation enveloped Philip.

We have time, she added, opening her eyes and pulling her forehead back to look at Philip properly, I would like to use it to seek your forgiveness, no matter how long it takes.

Gently, she took the bouquet of flowers from Philip and used her other hand to caress over the top of them, allowing their feathery buds to grace her fingers. She then slid the soft top of the bouquet across her neck, slowly from side to side, genuinely smiling at the sensation. Then, she handed them back to Philip.

Reconciliation is a beautiful gift, she said, her own eyes welling up with gratitude, What is left is only flowers now, a last precious memory of life from your realm. Keep them if they would bring you comfort.

((OOC: She would move onto Novelty here soon.))