her fellow deities

A thousand voices cried out in dismay, only to be suddenly silenced. A thousand hopes died, suffocated by some hasty, errant tweeting.

There was little that Nuuzstathena could do to lessen suffering in America; hers were the people of Grigovia, and of Gar Nuuzsh; she was honorbound to stay by their side.
Here she rocked a baby, there she soothed heartbreak, all the while holding space within her bosom for him Ynki, whose pleas and lamentations ricocheted throughout the firmament, upsetting gods and goddesses alike.

‘Is there no hand left to dry their tears, no force that might help them escape the darkness they have brought upon themselves?’ Nuuzstathena asked her fellow deities during the heavenly council she’d convened.
‘You know as well as we do, Nuat,’ said a floating, sticky cell-phone dripping with sickly effluence, ‘that Americans are stubborn and excitable people who will run against walls until they break through or fall down.’
‘The imbalance will right itself in due course, fair goddess,’ assured her an impossibly skinny, shadowy figure who was shaped like a door ajar. ‘Ignore it, if you can.’

A coalition of merciful goddesses agreed to share the burden of Ynki grief - but only from afar, and only as long as it threatened to snap the world-tree’s trunk.

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

grigs own aprodit

There is an old story, I know just a bit, about an old goddess, Grig's own Aprodit. Brought up in a valley immune to stray gazing she'd learned about friendship and animal grazing from an older shepherd-girl who stealthily could run across rockfall and swiftly climb trees. (This older companion could easily be, her shape-shifting highness, the fair Athene.) While seeking a lamb-chop swept off in a gale, our young Aprodit left her protective vale, got waylaid by wood-fellers, knotted and roped, abused with foul language and sat on and groped. 'Enough,' she said calmly, 'release me anon.' Her captors they jeered though, made laughter, and fun. She gave no more warnings, she'd treated them fair, she summoned her courage and focused her glare, then with a quick gesture she cut through her ropes while grasping a tiny blade found in her coats, then leaped up and threw off her mantles and norms, revealing to mankind her beautiful forms. So awestruck and smitten were all the men there, that past and amongst them she moved without care. Taking in her new-found station she uttered a proclamation: 'There you tremble, little shits, amazed and awed at Aprodit, she whom you tried to rape and torture, kill and maim, feed to the vultures, who now stands before you strong, cursing you to love her form while night is long and days are warm – know no love from any other, not from sister, friend, or mother.' Cursed they were the foolish fellers to short lives consumed by fits, lost in amour, pining always, for radiant Aprodit.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥