5th Quest, Endgame: Friend To The Lost, Enemy Of All Tyrants

[lightnovelexperiences]

1: Who Waits By Your Sickbed And Brings In Fresh Air

Though she faded into the background somewhat, Deedee has been quietly practicing, healing, beautifying. The plague didn't catch her flatfooted, and she's been distributing the vaccine almost as fast as she's been getting it, and doing her best to heal the afflicted with her own growing healing powers, as well.

Sylphan may not be one of the Old Gods, but she likes to think He is still listening, and honoring her vows and sacrifices to him.

So if you've got an injury or want to be inoculated against plague, come visit Deedee at the Five Winds Spa after hours.

2: Who Comforts the Distressed and Distresses the Comfortable

Deedee's never forgotten her main objective with the spa, of course: tricking upper class twits into revealing more than they should in small talk with their masseuses, pedicurists and nurses. Deedee and her crew continue to lavish the very rich and stupid, so their Reichmarks flow into the Corsair's coffers and their plans end up in the ears of Corsair leaders.

And if this means giving a massage to an unpleasant officer or two, then so be it.

3: The Laughing Wind, The Trickster-Fox, Who Caught His Own Tails

When not working, she's busy training her art, both the physical martial art and her command of Ether and inner arts. She mastered wind; she's learned fire; she's been slowly working up to other elements.

She'll gladly spar with you. Who'll take her up on it, with bare hands, halberds out, or in full wuxia bullshit mode?

Comments

[lightnovelexperiences]

"Natalia, please listen to me and take this in the spirit of compassion I intend it," Deedee says, wondering when she became her mother.

But she has not forgotten the face of her father, either, and he would respect that. She sighs, and continues.

"Trying to ignore how I felt, even the anger, even the sadness, is how I managed to make myself miserable for 25 years. Only... only becoming the godbotherer I am now and allowing myself to feel those saved me from that," she says, managing not to lie while concealing what about that transition saved her heart and soul. "Anger is a pure burning fuel. It is the cry of 'but that's not fair!' at the top of your lungs. Those who have everything and say that to mean 'it's not fair that you have what I don't' are despicable, but I know you well enough to say that that is not the kind of anger you have in your heart."

[theriflespiral]

"... 'it is because of people like you, that I am like this.' I do not remember all of what was done to me, clearly. Because I do not remember a torturer, fancying himself a scientist--" She stops, clenches her fists, closes her eyes. "That one is past my ability to hear, now."

Even with her moderated tone, the sense of and good fucking riddance is laced all through. "... your Eranda. Tell me of Her."

[lightnovelexperiences]

"She is the lady of wild strawberries, of the oats, the rye, and the barleycorn, the patron of all women," even those born not realizing they were women, "there when the lamb is birthed, there when the sheep is sheared, there when the wool is spun, there where the quilt is woven. There, too, as the First Midwife, to welcome her children into the world. She used to be the lady of the emmer wheat, too, until Aurora made that hers; for her worship is older than Aurora's, among those who shun city walls for the countryside and transhumance. She is revered as healer, maiden, mother, and crone; she loves Aurora and Scherzo both, and I won't go into detail on how and how much."

She takes a deep breath.

"She is not my Goddess, exactly. But all of the Fourteen are family, the first lords of Mundus, even the Fifteenth whose name must be abjured."

[theriflespiral]

She winces slightly, as her shoulder comes back into proper rest, as neck and trapezius stop favoring it. "Then, to your kasha baba, I shall help you in that tonight, if I can."

"... and may i one day flourish..."

[lightnovelexperiences]

"Blintzes with strawberries and sweet cheese," she agrees. "It's mom's recipe, which should please Her. And a good way to calm down."

She pauses.

"Take out your frustrations on the berries as they boil, really pulp em."

[theriflespiral]

For a moment, there's a faint up-turning of one corner of her mouth. "Are you sure? May end up making strawberry slush, instead."

Though, right after this, she adds, "perhaps it would not be that much longer in pot, either way."