Archie had arrived, he’d taken to standing somewhat nearby Seth – not close enough that the Lycanrocs couldn’t continue their whispered conversation without fear of being overheard – but still close enough to find some comfort in the familiarity of his presence.
When Seth noticed Archie, he gave the otter a rising nod, and slapped the space next to him. There was enough space on the rugs-on-reeds of a floor surface to sit without sprawling next to the wolf – that was as good an invitation as he'd get.
"That's something I've been curious about," admitted Koa. He tried to think of tactful way to put it, but couldn't quite figure out how. "How much do other Saints... associate with each other? Like the Cyclone and the Twilight, just getting to keep that power and cause problems. Is there anything other than offworlders like us to keep them... in check?"
"It's somethin' we've been rackin' our brains on," he said before finally pulling out a flask, "One of 'em in particular's been talkin' about how if they aren't stopped in their own rampaging, it's just 'nature', like if a storm hit or somethin'. I get it ain't our place to meddle, but it still really ruffles my cloth. It's not nature, it's his actions.
"Want some water? I'll take a sip first if ya don't trust it."
Luz reached out and took the flask as if she weren't blind at all. Clearly her other senses were
good, maybe there was even some kind of electroreceception going on...
"Thank ye kindly, son," drawled the cat. "Now, as to yer questions...
"Firstly, there are only so many gods an' demigods, and they got a whole globe to cover between them. The greater part of the world's people are in what folks call the 'old world', too. Places like Arcadelle, Tsainan and the rest, with millions of 'mon. I see the Two Aeons 'bout once every few years fer a catch-up, and I run into the Cyclone every so often and that's the greater part of my socialisin' with other legendaries right there. Used to get along with the Stormbringer, but the fella went an' dived down the well some years back with no acolyte to succeed 'im...
"Funny you should talk about 'em as you do, though, kid. What's stoppin'
you lot causin' problems? If you feel unnerved by the thought of a bird smashin' an object from time to time 'cause of some numinous ideal, I shudder to think how you'd feel about an
offworlder with a more material agenda. D'you know, fer a time there was a part-human outlaw in the Soja' who was a match fer me in battle? And he actually
wanted power and wealth, and to
hurt folks. Kill 'em, even.
"As fer
Zapdos, runner of the roads that he is – I know that bastard well enough. All you have to do is not fuckin'
rise to him, and he won't fuckin' clock ya. It's the easiest thing in the fuckin' world, I swear to lightnin'." The old Zeraora tapped her temple, with some force. "Sonofabitch wants to provoke 'mon with strength into fightin' him. If you don't wanna, then damn well let it be. He's a glorified piece of gym equipment for Escarpa that don't love havin' unbroken bones."
Luz looked back to Ghaspius, and took another sip of water. Her expression grew more somber. A little pained, even.
"Look, I can see this is gonna be tricky for y'all to get yer heads around, what with y'all bein' from other worlds, an' cultures an' all. The tricky thing about legendaries is... not every god is a god of somethin' sweet and fair. That's a good thing, mind. It'd be a right dull an' tiny world, otherwise. Point
bein', whether the Red Wings or the Weaver have their mental shit t'gether or not, they're still the god of death, and the god of nightmares. Wind an' weather, son – how 'bout the
weather gods? You gonna ask the
ocean t'be kind and nurturin'?
"Every part of the world's a
part of the world. And legendary 'mon ain't pulp paperback super-heroes, they're embodiments of
every part of the world. The Cyclone is a thinkin', feelin'
guy, like you – but he's not kiddin' when he calls himself a
storm. Might as well get mad at a predator fer eatin' meat – it's his
nature, and it'll be the nature of his heir after him. There's a purpose in him bein' that way, too – the planet ain't a garden, it's a
forest. Didja know – the southern pines need to
burn every year or two if the forest's to stay healthy?"
Luz coughed, and drank some more. A sudden flash of fatigue suggested this was the most she'd spoken in one go in
years.
"Chieftain Sierra will be here long after we're gone. But who knows how long we have. Would you... perhaps be willing to train us as well?"
"
Ha. Cheeky devil. Maybe. Let's see how the leaves land."
