story_teller | IC INBOX: STORYTELLER

Are you kidding? This is the best way to get a god's attention, for sure. Trust Lup, she's an expert in getting woken up by this girl.

She grins at Ren's stellar attempt and leans against an overgrown wall, picking at the dirt under her nails. Boy the weeds in here are tough as old boots, too bad she can't just firebomb the whole thing? That uh, might not be received so gratefully.

"Hey what if you play a lil tune for them on your flute? I bet they're gonna hear that!" The fuckin dead hear that thing, she's checked.

"I can hear you just fine, thank you." The Storyteller is a spider monkey today, all buff-colored fur and a long, curling question mark of a tail that hangs from one of the stony ledges overhead. They leap lightly to the floor and regard the pair with dark cherry-pit eyes.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Credit to this particular combination of visitors: the words might ordinarily be cut dry and sarcastic, but in this moment, are nothing more than utterly sincere.

She's glad they didn't require more prompting to come out, even if she had been prepared to pull the flute from her pocket. Not that time is a factor in this adventure-she's just excited. They're even the perfect size for her bag, which is more of an observation than anything. She's not going to kidnap a god. Not yet.

"We want to play with you. We're going to take you somewhere fun and make you very happy."

Hey if Ren wants to steal a god, Lup's not going to stop her. Kids do the darndest things, right? You look away for a second and they've stuffed an intangible deity into their bag like a cool rock, so weird how that happens. Though she does opt to word their plan a little more uhhh, optional.

"Think you can take a couple hours out of your busy god schedule to hang out with us, your favorite mortals?" She squats down, holding out an arm for them to climb and smiles teasingly. "It's cool, I'm giving you the rest of the day off."

The Storyteller pauses in such a way that implies they were mere moments away from taking her up on that, scurrying up her arm and perching on her shoulder like some kind of miniature, fur-bristled gargoyle.

"...what happens to be the occasion?" It's more puzzlement than outright suspicion, but they do have to admit to themself - it is an oddity, for a pair of people to show up to their temple and not seemingly want anything other than to spirit them away for a few hours.

But then again...not many people have shown up here to ask them for things. Not for some time.

Do they need a reason beyond their desire to see them? Their god needs a break as much as anyone. They work at all hours and times, procuring items at night and keep the island functioning during the day. Do they ever really get a chance to stop and relax? It's hard to say. Even Storytelling ends up with them trying to connect islands together, which sounds rough.

"We want to be with you. That's the occasion." Plus, let's be real-Lup's mighty decree is worth the same as a god's own law, in her eyes. "Lup says you get the day off, so you get it off. That's how it is."

Does a god feel the same kind of like, bewildered acceptance and finality as everyone else does, at Ren's self-assured declaration of that's how it is? Boy she sure hopes so. To be honest she hadn't known if this was gonna work at all, if the Storyteller would be down for manifesting for no other reason than to have a good time. They don't really seem the type to just, cut loose?

Which is exactly what they've come here to fix. That idea only really took shape once Ren's irresistible enthusiasm entered the mix. There's no way they can say no to her, after all.

"You heard the lady," Lup says, with a proud, amused glint in her eyes. "It's time you saw how the 99% live."

"I'm...uncertain I follow." The ninety-nine percent? She's undoubtedly referring to the rest of the islanders, but, the math sounds all wrong. But, regardless, the pair seem in good spirits in addition to quite adamant on making a day of it.

They won't deny their reluctance, either; the fact that they cannot, in good faith, merely throw up their proverbial hands and declare all work done for the day, as a god's work is never something one can simply abandon to the wayside.

Perhaps this is what they are asking for. Just...in an abstract, inexact way.

The Storyteller sighs.

"I suppose I've the time for it."

They relent and she's ecstatic. A huge smile crosses her face and she eyes them like they're one of her terrible treasures. All the lowkey concerns she had about trying to drag them out of the temple is gone in a flash and her arms go right into the air. Victory is theirs and she glances at Lup because they did it. They somehow managed to get their god to sort of reluctantly agree to this venture and she is-oh boy.

"We're the 99% and we're going to play," Here it is, already. A nice little jingle to preface the rest of this journey, horrible. She's jittery with excitement, turns on her heel to leave, then spins back around because they have to go together. Before the Storyteller changes their mind and they have to start from square freaking one. "It's a 'surprise', but not a loud one so you don't have to be afraid. We're going to make your heart very happy."

The math checks out, don't worry about it. Especially with that glowing musical endorsement from Ren! Oh man. Ears snapping up triumphantly at the god's agreement, Lup just barely resists the urge to try and high-five Ren, that's always kind of a toss-up on how that goes anyway. But she absolutely shares a thrilled glance with her. This is gonna be a hell of an afternoon for sure.

She waits for them to unpause and do their clambering up her shoulder before turning to follow Ren, holding out her hand to the girl too. Just an elf and her lil sis and their god-monkey out for a stroll, nbd.

"Hey, don't give away all our secrets yet, pumpkin," she chuckles at Ren's excited promises. And she smirks down at the monkey. "No antlers today?"

"I had no use for them," the Storyteller replies, airily. Which suggests that the antlers serve some kind of grander, arcane purpose in the context of godhood. That, or - they simply like to wear them to feel important, some days.

It's hard to tell, with them, and they're hardly about to say one way or another.

"What's this about secrets?"

"You can put them on later. You can wear them even if there's 'no use'-that's okay." She studies the top of their head when Lup points out the missing piece and grasps her hand, gently, to pull her along with a happy little hum still caught in the back of her throat. Storyteller can't change their mind period once they leave the temple grounds-those are the rules she made up like, just now. So, you know.

"We can't tell you. Secrets are something you keep in your heart or tell the flying stars or candles. You're not those things right now." Or ever? They tend to be animals, ergo, they don't get to know the secrets this mischievous pair is hiding from them. They have to find out the old fashioned way-by waiting. Horrible.

Yeah they can't fool Lup, they've told her before they like wearing 'em to appear old and wise or whatever? But this isn't a storytelling or a 'we're in deep shit folks' dream, they're off the clock, so no antlers works. Or put them on later so Ren can hang garbage from them, which is no doubt why she suggested that.

Lup hurries to keep Ren's eager pace and hums in amused agreement with her ironclad argument. "Yeah dawg, it's a real shame you're not any of those things? Or we could tell you for sure. Buuut, I mean, you've been pretty good lately? So like, a hint maybe? What d'you think, Ren?" You know it's gonna be dumb, right.

"I could be a star, or a constellation. You don't know." It's said with the sort of imperious tone that would be much better suited if they were an owl, or a peacock, or some manner of appropriately regal creature that could look down the length of their beak or muzzle and regard them with a baleful eye.

But they are currently a monkey. The effect is less than staggering.

"I have not been..." A blink; wrong-footed and attempting to recover swiftly. "That sort of judgment is subjective."

A little garbage never hurt anyone and she can think of many odds and ends that could fit on tiny monkey antlers. That's all. It's fashion. It's fine. She's looking forward to the day when her terrible dreams can become reality, that's all.

"You're always very good," Which is her subjective judgement on the matter, even if they're throwing some star shade that makes her silently stare at them for a drawn out, long ass moment. They aren't super bright or blinking in their monkey form. J'accuse, Storyteller. "Lup can feel your heart too, so if she says it's okay, then you can have a hint."

Which means she has to do some mental acrobatics around this fake heart talk to figure one out and she looks all too proud of herself when one comes to mind. "The hint is-it's something."

Yeah. It's something. Figure that out, starteller.

Their wild claims to star-hood earn an incredulous look from Lup as well, eyebrow raised and one ear cocked, obviously amused. Honestly the longer she's known them the more she's come to enjoy their moments of smugness and cheek, a hint of some playfulness, some sense of humor under all that seriousness and inscrutability. With any luck she'll be seeing more of that today.

And then their mood drops and Lup's left with a bit more uncertainty than Ren, who doesn't even miss a beat laying down more unshakable judgments. Oof, is this still-- still about the caves? Or about more recent horrors, Ai'tuoh and Ziziphus? They don't gotta-- they weren't responsible for that. Like she'd told them, as long they're giving everybody a choice, the responsibility for whatever happens doesn't rest on them alone. Maybe she should offer another talk, or something--

But not right now. Because Ren just gave the hint of the goddamn century and Lup bursts out laughing, bouncing the god on her shoulder with her delight. "Oh that's-- that's very good. It's super something! Maybe even like, a bunch of somethings." She snorts. "Hey, you wanna use your godly intuition and guess?" What's your insight stat, fool.

The sequelae of that sort of judgment may be more difficult to trace than is primarily evident, but it's fair to say that a large part of it - perhaps the largest part - has to do with that which everyone still remembers and plenty still chafe over.

Some part of them may have been banking on the more subjective opinions of those who cannot call themselves divine as a sort of reference point.

"It's something," says the Storyteller, their monkey's tail arching up high into an elegant curlicue. It's faint, but it's fondness that bends their tone, somewhat archly: "Well, now you've given the whole mystery away."

The morale boosting god talk can come after they sort out this mess because their something and super something was too good of a hint. Their god figured it out in record time and she looks at them-concerned, worried and then-

"I have to tell a secret to Lup, so you can't listen." Her free hand shoots up to form some kind of barrier between the god's face and their own-they're a little monkey and this will work. It's fine. Don't peek over her fingers, just stay right there. It's honor code time, Storyteller. Turn off your ears. She needs to have a sidebar with her aunt, which she does, in like, the smallest whisper. As if the creature on Lup's shoulder somehow can't hear them talk despite their close proximity. Shut up.

"Lup, you have to say 'it's not super something'-that's what you do," Guess what time it is? It's Lie Time. They can still call this a success if they take back their hint and offer another. A worse one, if possible. She lowers the hand barrier between them to address the Storyteller. "There's still a 'mystery'-it's not something, it's nothing. A lot of nothings. That's the hint."

The hint is a lie now, but whatever. The important part is the surprise remains intact.

Lup already knows it's gonna be something buckwild when Ren blocks? the god's face?? to tell her a secret??? But she could never be prepared for what follows.

Because-- Oh no. Oh beans. Poor literal-minded Ren mistook their quip and her genius goblin solution is to just fuckin lie about it. Holy shit. Is. Is this bad aunting? Should she be, like, should she do something about this? Lup is conflicted over the moral implications of lying to a god for about five seconds, which is a lot and she's not into it.

The answer, as always, is to roll with the shenanigan, duh. Lup does her best not to lose her entire shit here, obediently sealing the deal. "Yeah it's, uhm, I misspoke? Earlier? It's actually not super something?" Her voice is just climbing a couple distressed octaves for no reason, it's fine, this is fine.

"It's-- it's nothing you've seen before." Fucking nailed it. The real mystery is actually how long the Storyteller can handle this.

Now, who could possibly say "no" to a face like that? The Storyteller could, in principle, overhear if they would like - but they do not. Honor code time, indeed. They simply let their tale sway to and fro with idle contemplation, as they pretend to study the obsidian shine to their dark simian nails, and that they cannot overhear the whispers occurring not two feet away from them.

"I see." A blink. Another. "If that is the case, I won't inquire further. What use is there in dissecting and discussing nothings and somethings if one has never seen either the nothing or the something, or much of anything else besides, hm?"

You forget that they are the Storyteller.

Wordplay is kind of their thing.

Victory belongs to Team Base, or so it seems-actually, Ren has no idea and their wild statement causes her to stare at them in absolute silence because, okay. They've never nothing somethinged anything around the something nothing or anything one thing. This is for Lup to decipher, not her. They lied their way back into the good graces of whatever invisible Surprise God there is out there and her job is done.

"Yeah, that's how it is," She's like 50% sure this is the correct response here. "Somethings and nothings will make you happy."

Adorable crisis averted, Lup gives the monkey on her shoulder a pleased look. Not that she's getting much more out of their ever inscrutable word salad than Ren does, but it sounds like they're playing along? Which is the main thing. Here's hoping that Ren is right and they're headed for Happy-Storyteller Town.

But first of all, they're headed for camp. It's a short trek through the jungle, on a secret path that nobody is really trying all that hard to keep hidden anymore. The wind chime traps and half finished stake pits are still around, anyway, so it's fine. When they reach the dumb sign for assholes right where the trees recede into a small clearing dominated by a large tent, Lup lets go of Ren's hand to gesture expansively, like this is Door Number Three and they just won a trip to the fantasy Caribbeans.

"Welcome to camp, our most humble home. Which we, I guess, built on your home? Kind of?" Whatever, still better than crashing in the temple like the twins used to do. Somewhere on a low-hanging branch, Hot Boi calls out a greeting chirp to Lup, but it looks like everybody else is out for the day. Excellent. "Ren, why don't you show our friend around for a bit, before the real surprise starts?"

"Well, it is as they say. My home is yours, and all. It is the least I can do, due to your displacement to this land."

Not suspicious at all, this talk of surprises and the like. Something is more predisposed to be of interest than nothing - for who wants to deal with great quantities of nothing, all at once? Nobody, that's who. Nobody would appreciate nothing, after all.

The monkey leaps nimbly to the ground, recognizing a tacit dismissal for what it is.

"Very well, then."

Welcome to gremlin tours, where everything's made up, but she sounds happy so that's all that matters. And thus begins the incredible tour of the tent, where she points out corners and blankets The Storyteller can sleep on if they're lonely. She shows them the cat, who doesn't seem entirely interested in what's going on, the perched phoenix, the lobster who likes to sing.

She points out little corners that are good places to tell stories and this is a good place to hug gods and then it's back to the lobster because it's just That Valid. It knows escape plans. It has blueprints for jailbreaking. Their local deity needs this information and intel on the shed, which can hide your treasures. We'll keep them safe and Taako's hammock which he might twist you up in it, but you can sleep there when he's running the store-I won't tell and-

All this is gonna continue until Lup gives the okay and summons them back over. Save this poor God, Lup.

There is no saving this god, mainly because Gremlin Tours (tm) is totally part of the surprise. Bet they weren't expecting that! And Lup will absolutely just be sitting here and watching this all go down with her chin propped up on her hands, only pausing to get the campfire going. This is better than literally any other form of entertainment on the island? Of course it is, because Ren's doing it.

And if Ren's complete devotion and adorable ass exposition doesn't cheer up the Storyteller, this mission's just gonna be shit outta luck. They're already-- there's a distinct possibility they've peaked and this is already the best part of the surprise, whoops.

Not like that's gonna stop her from trying to top it, though. They got options, here. Eventually Lup throws Ren a thumbs up, a sign that says both great job! and to maybe wrap it up. Once they wander back over to the fire, she tips an ear at the god.

"So, what'd you think? Pretty cozy, right?"

IC INBOX: STORYTELLER

IC INBOX: THE STORYTELLER

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