Wild Things

otem You'll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley You can tell the sun in his jealous sky when we walked in fields of gold [Totally fine! ] At the mention of gods, Otem's face warped into a bitter sneer. The gods had once been her family, however far removed they were. But that hardly mattered now. Gone was gone after all. "The Gods are gone." She muttered, her youthful voice hollow but weighted with the implication of her words. She knew it was just an expression, but in this hellish place it seemed entirely inappropriate given what had transpired. As the man voiced his confusion, Otem's expression became almost irritated. What was she talking about? Where had he been? Had he dozed through the entire apocalypse? Had he just missed the dozens who had just been incinerated by Kaos, and the Gods (and demi-gods) who had died to get them all through? "Where have you been?!" She snapped rhetorically, though childishly. Realizing how silly she sounded she steeled her nerve and stood a bit taller, not wanting to continue acting like a petulant child. "Kaos, or Kisamoa or whatever, made everyone come to the marshes. Black smoke covered everything. So many died ... he killed them ... and the gods...even they couldn't stop him. So they made sure that we all went through the portal okay. It's why most of us still have our magic and companions..." Her shoulders rose and fell, the after-image of Isopia burning away in bright light still engrained in her memory. "I'm Otem." She continued, answering him finally. "Who're you? And how do you not know any of this?"

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