Piora

Gianus always thought that it was possible to find purpose in both joy and duty. The other men of his tribe certainly didn’t. He had heard them state that the future of their tribe could not rest in a man who believed in such things. Only one man from each tribe was sent to be its herald, meaning to ask for Jezebel’s hand in marriage. Once wed, man and goddess could have a child, and the next generation would be given a strength unseen before, birthing a being that was half god, half man. 
   The concept felt falsified to Gianus; it had been known to him since he was a child that the gods cannot have children. That was Omni, and Demi was where all good and bad stemmed from. They had their children: Odi, god of death; Terra, god of the elements; Aiza, god of man; Jezebel, goddess of woman; and Genesis, goddess of animals. And the gods don’t breed with men, making it so he ventured out without any guidance of the elders to find out if it was a true offer. He thought that it was a fool's gambit, but the elders believed in it, and every man needed something to believe in. There were no women anymore, not from their tribe nor from their rivals. They had all succumbed to illness one morning, and it took only a few days for them to pass away. At first Gianus was nearly blamed, but it was deduced that he was not wise enough to be a killer of many, and once it was revealed it had happened to other tribes too, he was set free from bondage. 
   Gianus kept moving forward for two reasons. The small chance that the elders were correct. He just wanted to see what Jezebel looked like. She was known to be the most beautiful woman that had ever existed. Whilst being the eldest. She dwelled upon the world, as it was said in old legends, spoken through tongues, but barely written. Part of him wanted to see the kinds of men who did believe it. Choosing to line up and gather for a false dream that, when they awoke, would likely kill one another. Gianus figured that if he kept his distance from the eventual fighting, he could pick up whatever treasures were left and bring them to his tribe. There were stories that told of odd fruits from a land where rain did not exist that gave whoever ate it foresight into the future, horses that could take flight, and stones that could grow in size. He thought that if he could take anything of the sort, his transgressions would be forgiven; some men would consider hiding away and choosing to pair with a different tribe if they had found such treasures. It was a possibility that Gianus never considered. His tribe had already put up with some of his antics; he knew what they liked and didn’t and seemed to be the only one who could manage to crack a smile from the others. 
   He was never lost during his journey, for he followed where he saw other large packs of wolves stride forward.  He kept a far distance, allowing himself to watch the others and see what it was that made them falter. The only issue is when they came close to one another. What began with jesting and taunting words quickly turned into a battle of fist against fist. Wrestling to the death, and a trail of lifeless bodies who would never get burial rights. 
   As he reached the crest of the hill, he came across a woman sitting on a rock. At first Gianus was startled, for it had been months since he had seen a woman in close proximity. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen any that were alive. Other tribes kept their women in fierce protection, far away from any prospect that they could be taken by other tribes. It startled Gianus to see that she was alone, and for a moment he thought it may be Jezebel, but he pushed away the theory a second later once he analyzed her face. The woman wasn’t pretty, and all knew that Jezebel was the prettiest woman to ever exist. At her feet were multiple filled cups of dark brown liquid, and once she gazed into his eyes, she opened her mouth to speak. At the bottom of the hill he spotted a convergence of a great number of men. Thousands of bodies. Most of them, far taller than the average, circled upon a field of flowers that contained colors that Gianus certainly had not seen in his corner of the world. Resting in the center of the field was an elevated rock, where he spotted a single woman who seemed otherworldly, not by sight, for she was too distant to see, but by an inner feeling that stirred within Gianus. 
   “Try it,” the woman stated as she passed him a full cup of the liquid. 
   “What is it?” Gianus requested as the woman passed him a small cup.  He sniffed it, searching for the possibility of poison. It certainly wasn’t wine. The smell contained what seemed to be hints of liquified sweetness, but not near the sweetness of wine. “Ale or wine, and what’s your name?”
   “My name’s Blaise. This is something new. Rum, I call it.” Blaise replied with a shrug, “All men must try it if they want Jezebel’s hand. She asked me to make something so strong that only the toughest men could try it. Finish it in one swig, no spitting it out. That’s for the boys who are unworthy.”
   It immediately made sense to Gianus as to why such a woman would exist. If she was an ally to Jezebel, it was likely she would be untouched by the sickness that had done so much harm to others, for only a god could hold the ability to heal such an affliction that harmed so many. 
   Quickly Gianus took the wooden cup that it was held in. The cup was small, and the portion within breached the top, spilling onto his hands as he moved it. It certainly wasn’t any wine or ale that Gianus had come to know previously. It was dark brown in color, swirling in the cup with slow intention. Gianus brought it to his nose first, for he had heard of a weapon called poison. Where men and women who wanted to ascend through the tribes would put various deadly berries in food and drink. Killing their betters. Gianus had considered it before, knowing that if he had access, he could wipe out the rest of the men whom he would soon face, or at the very least, half of them could be exterminated. He had heard that poison smelled like rotted berries, and since he smelled nothing of the sort, Gianus drank what was given. After seeing that others had done the same. It felt as if fire had been liquified and forced down his throat. He managed to do it without a sputter, keeping his teeth grimaced. 
   “Rum…” Gianus repeated, keeping himself tempered as he spoke. Refusing to give her the satisfaction of harm. He was a man who wanted the hand of the goddess of woman. There would be no tolerance for any form of weakness. 
   “Go ahead,” Blaise continued as she tilted her head.
   In the center of the elevated rock, Gianus saw the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. Her hair began in a blond state but then shifted colors each second. Jumping from blond to red to black. The styles shifted in the same way. It was curled; soon after, it turned straight. Wavy, long, and short. Her eyes changed to blue, red, green, purple, and brown. Each shade showcased a brightness that was visible from far away. He knew who she was instinctively: Jezebel, the goddess of woman. 
   Resting in her hand was a small flower. Its petals defied logic, for each individual petal went in a sporadic direction from the petal beside it. Within the center of the flower was a bright pink. Gianus felt pulled towards it, as its bulb almost seemed as if it had the appearance of flesh.
   “Men of all lands. I am seeking the Piora flower.” Jezebel began. Her voice was soft, yet it stretched to the back of the large crowd with its touch. It sounded as if it were a whisper in Gianus’ ear. Personal and close. It sent a tingle throughout his body. Easing him into nerves. He knew he was a man, a man who had been with women before and who at most points had no issue with speaking with them. Yet he had grown used to the abilities. She was different. She smiled as she spoke; half of her words seemed to emit a light laughter. Proper women who were chiefs’ daughters often did the same, never expressing full emotion, “Whoever finds it can take my hand. I can only hope that the best man can find it,” Jezebel stated. 
   Her words were brief, and she turned away quickly. It looked to Gianus like a look that he had always known. A way that he had been forced to be by first the elders, and as he got older, he began to notice that when he was young, others laughed with him, and as he got older, he was the only one laughing, and others his age were no longer laughing despite needing to. They barely cracked a grin when they reached fifteen years of age and became men. It felt as if it was what they needed most of all, but they could only refuse. It was all Gianus wanted at times—to laugh again and to share it with others. He felt as if his deeds never did too much harm, and if others felt as he did when he smiled, then there was no full reason that he should stop it as long as he promised not to ever harm another with his tricks. He wished that there was a lighter way to share it. 
   After watching her, a stampede of men quickly followed her words. They rushed rapidly, and Gianus was forced to weave and duck his way from the striding men. Their feet created large clouds of dirt that rose with rapid speed. A great cloud of dust, brown and heavy in its existence. Forcing a cough out of Gianus as he found safety in trying to hide within a cave. It took a long time until the field was mostly cleared out, and only a few men remained scouring what was left of it. 
   The flowers that existed had all been trampled; they clearly were nothing special, unworthy of a goddess, as Gianus had imagined that there would have been something special if it were the Piora flower. Likely unable to be destroyed by such simpletons, it would be hidden in the depths of the world. 
   “I think I see it!” Gianus yelled. Loud enough, and waving his hands frantically in an attempt to gather attention. Once he got it, he quickly realized that there was a chance he may die, but with all the others who surrounded him, there was no way that he could have found a way out. It felt simple to him that if he were to approach her, there could be nowhere near. 
   “What?” A man stated.
   “Where,” the other said. 
   There were five of them who had gathered. The last of them in sight, if he could move them. He could have all the attention that he wanted from Jezebel. 
   “I was just thinking. It may be best if we work together. I do think that we’re the best men this world has to offer, and it’s a big world to offer. Why don’t we at the very least try? I think it would be close. I’m a smart man, and there’s no way the flower is near. Perhaps far. We’re all fast enough.”
   “Some of us,” the man answered. He then rushed quickly, moving past the others. He noticed that there was supposed to be some kind of answer. Nothing that he wouldn’t have known. They kept their promises, leaving him alone with her. 
   Gianus turned, alone in a field that had once been stacked to the brim with others. He regretted his choice to allow himself to be alone. Thinking that perhaps he should have joined the others. He was sure that they would have known more than he did. That they were supposed to have grown used to being strong, tracking, and killing, while the only thing Gianus had was a few shared laughs with his tribesmen. It was quiet, and his reluctance to carry himself back to the rock felt heavy with each step that he took. His hesitance nearly dragged him back. It began with his first step and molded itself with each following step that he took. He used it in a matter that ended once he reached the rock, finding that it contained many divots that he forced his hands into and then soon after his legs. Pushing himself up, terrified of looking down. 
   The journey upward made it seem as if the actual way of rising was a lot higher than it looked initially. It almost felt as if there was no way that he could have found a way out. He was sure that it was larger than he initially thought, for it was the existence of a goddess who could do whatever it was that she wanted. Perhaps it was Terra, god of the elements, who had manipulated the rock to rise in size the moment that he saw it. If that was the possibility, then he considered that it had grown beyond human comprehension. The thought made him smile; at least he had proven in his last moments that the gods were just as into tricks as he was. 
   Eventually the time came when he managed to reach the top edge, and when he did, Jezebel's companions were no longer there, and the goddess had changed. She was short, with hair colored in a way that no human would have been able to do. Her roots were a dark black, and she had managed to cultivate one side with a dark black and the other with a light white. Once it was there, he had hoped that it would have led to some kind of revelation. Instead, it was set to be used as an escape. He had managed to allow himself to rise, flatten his hair, and attempt to stand tall. 
   He strode forward, not looking where he was going. Managing to falter, realizing quite quickly that he stumbled face forward, only managing to save himself with a quick rooting of his hands into the hard rock below. 
   “Try not to remember that,” Gianus begged as he rose. 
   When he looked up, the goddess's hand was extended, and he immediately forgot what it was that he was going to say. When he looked into her eyes, he found that he could not look away, as they seemed to shift through all the colors of a rainbow, bright, and gathering his attention. She smiled, a pretty smile with perfect teeth and full lips. 
   “I remember everything,” Jezebel stated, “absolutely everything. I get the feeling we’re alike, although I’m much better at it. I wonder if you’re good enough.”
   “For…” Gianus began to speak but quickly realized that he did not know what she spoke of when she mentioned "good enough." It could mean one of many things. She could be speaking about being good enough to be in her presence. Good enough to worship her, or perhaps be one of her wards, although the last was unlikely, for she was apparently very elusive in the fact that the goddess of women only allowed female wards within her personal “This was a trick,” Gianus accused. Once he spoke, he wished that he hadn’t. She seemed interested in his words. Clearly holding the opinion that perhaps the best thing to do would be to avoid speaking further, but he had seen her smile. It was a wide smile. One in which she was forced to stifle a laugh. Keeping her eyes wide, a sentiment that she quickly shared immediately afterward. 
   She transmuted her love quickly afterwards, changing her shape as if she were the first woman he had slept with. Long brown hair, paired with deep green eyes. Thin lips and proper round breasts that seemed as if they were pushed up. Gianus couldn’t help but look. He noticed that there was a pull to look. It was not like most women when a quick glance was enough for him. It was a long glare that he continued with. Keeping his body taut, with growing interest in what she had to offer. He had imagined that it would have led to further fear. The same fear that he felt when he lay with her for the first time. 
   “My life is different than yours. A man has ease. Thousands of years are no problem.  I wish to be judged. Even if it’s my brother, and by the thousands who wished for my hand.”
   Together they lay, and with it a trick turned to a daughter. Rixie. Goddess of games.