Biting Defeat

Written by Douglysium

“I apologize for bothering thee Sir Ferventi.” Morien limped over to the wolf god, the burns still felt like they were searing her flesh still but a majority of the pain subsided. Her war paint was still on her armor and her heart felt like it sunk with her battleship. Despite the pain she gave the best salute she could. Her left eye socket burned like a fire under her eye patch. Ferventi looked her up, his divine war paint on his skin, even in his mortal form he radiated power. He was not present for it but the results of the battle were clear to see. “I apologize” Morien said in response to the unspoken question “...I’m afraid that I have failed thee. Prydwen has been lost and the Dragon’s Hammer with it. We were attacked directly by Sol and Aien de Draco. I tried to fight off Sol de Draco and hoped my blade would give me an advantage but I was bested.” Ferventi responded, “You are still green, I expected about as much, but you are still standing.” Despite the truth of his words it still stung Morien to be reminded of her status as a novice among the pantheon sometimes. But she indeed wasn’t dead so she decided to take it as a compliment. “How many did you lose?” Ferventi asked. “At least 100 people at the minimum but the numbers are still being tallied.” Ferventi paused for a second as if observing something “Why did you come to me? Would Ryoma have not been a better choice to report your sinking ship to?” As expected of someone as perceptive and long-lived as Ferventi. “Ryoma already knows, I was hoping thou would have some advice. I want to prevent something like this from happening again. I want to win this war.” Ferventi snorted, but it was not out of disgust, rather it was more like a snort a wolf or dog would make. “The only things I have to teach you right now will need to be learned through experience. Failure is just as much a part of experience as success.” Morien nodded in acknowledgment and Ferventi continued “but if you really want an advice, your cult needs you, now more than ever. So do many other mortals.” Morien felt her fist tighten in resolve. “How do you feel?” asked Ferventi. “Terrible but also angry,” Morien said. “Good, you're probably going to need it,” he replied. Morien gave Ferventi a bow and said “I thank thee for the advice” before taking her leave. The answer wasn’t as satisfying as she hoped and it didn’t soothe her wounds but it did help her feel ever so slightly better. There was no coddling or reassurance that everything would just work out. Morien stared into the night sky, the light of the half-moon seemed almost unnaturally bright as a cold wind blew over her. Her wings shivered in response. She could only pray for the best but how often did gods pray to other gods? It always felt weird when she did it. Besides, who would even answer at this point?