#(cotesia faced with the possibility she does not have to do what she is currently doing and that it may not in fact be worth it: what. no.)

[rotten-pest]

Hphm. Of course. Perhaps in some kind of twisted sense their meeting was a taunting sort of gift. And it was not her desire to lay her disdain at his feet, try as he did to mend that particular gap. Yet her anger found little else to catch on, as was difficult for any flame to do in a gale. A great difficulty, indeed, for her to answer his request.

Hers was a journey thus far made unaccompanied, only but briefly touching the lives of other beings and oft more than not never in a good way. It was better that way. One who walks alone. One free from compunctions and indecision. One who walks a straight line. The unsung note at the end of her old name. Hers to make do with what she would, including casting that very name aside (or perhaps, better yet described as tearing it asunder). To act, to achieve the divinity of rot, she saw only the clear and cutting motion of finality. It was not enough to just release the Goddess laid betwixt Malenia’s flesh because Malenia was a faulty vessel. Would a Goddess of Rot even love them, yet still? Could one? And, perhaps, in some secret part, for which she did not even want her kin to know in its full depth and breadth, because she wished to see them freed from the duty of worship in its entirety. To replace the Golden Goddess with a Rotted one was a half-measure, a half of a solution. Incomplete. Incomprehensible.

But she did not say this, or convey it, rather, because it was a crushing thing to believe for the Kindred. Even she who had abandoned longing for Her love, faced with the enormity of it, day-by-day? A truly devastating thing. Spending one’s whole life with the last touches of the sun’s warmth as it set, remembering its spectacular vibrancy, only to abandon it completely for the chill of night.

And yet there was a truth to his words. It would indeed be an enormous task for her to challenge Malenia. It was already quite the task to live long enough to get to her. And she did trust him—trust more than any human, certainly (save, perhaps, just one). And yet. They may not turn claw against one another now, but later? When the journey ended and they stood side-by-side before Her? What then? And it was not a matter of betrayal. She had suffered enough of those the sting of just its consideration no longer injured her deeply. No, for it was being the one who betrayed. Suffering the idea of getting so impossibly far with He-Who-Meddles, likely enduring so much, only to be forced to defy him? To spit in his face, his battered visage that had already suffered so much. Rare was it her own cruelty sickened her but the idea of doing so made her clench her teeth and stomach. Some human weakness entered her at some point and it would make her hesitate, compromise with herself, abandon her divine mission. And she could not live that way, either.

“It pains me greatly, to suggest otherwise. But I cannot, I’m afraid,” she said, slowly, expression pinching shut as her fingers tightened around his, to memorize the way his chitin felt and his scent-taste even were those things beyond her squishy human senses, “I would not wish to get to the end together knowing we could not go past it as such."

With her mouth suddenly dry, she swallowed, steeling her courage. “But I would not hinder you. In fact, I will share with you what I know, and return the favor, if you’d allow me, to tend your hide” and with that she gestured, tiredly, to the soap and wash cloth, since forgotten during the exchange and remembered only then if perhaps in the desperate hope to amend what she knew would hurt.

"I would forsake fate to the prison of the unmoving stars and lay the gift of this meeting at the feet of the Goddess." There was a pause following his declaration, the sheer contentment of the moment disturbed by the recognition of this distinction between them and their goals. He Who Meddles doesn't release his hold on Cotesia (though his grasp does loosen somewhat at her flinching) and releases something reminiscent of a sigh from within his abdomen. "Forgive me. I understand our intentions are perhaps rival creatures, and I would not further irritate a wound that has not healed."

As if to reassure her that this encounter would remain free of the violence plaguing previous reunions, his head rubbed against Cotesia's, careful to ensure his chitin didn't scratch or cut the softer flesh now veiling her. Maxilla dabbed and rubbed gently at any left over debris from her travels still clinging to her brow, and all the while reassuring scents emerged of calm-devotion and affection-relief that he seemed to be trying his best to leave on her person. "Let us speak of this, rather than allow it to fester and grow into something unsightly. Our desires are opposed. To sever the binding of the Goddess of Rot without a vessel to replace Malenia..." Another faux sigh thrummed within his abdomen. He Who Meddles moved a hand onto her hair, claws carefully sorting through the strands. "For one of us to succeed in our chosen task, the other must fail. Yet to raise claw and turn mandible upon you as our kin have already... no. I will not allow this."

Seemingly satisfied with the effort to 'clean' Cotesia, He Who Meddles shifted back somewhat, rubbing his head against hers one last time. Still his hands held onto her own, and his many-eyes settled on them for a moment as if in consideration. "I would join you on this journey of yours, if you would have me. Both of us would see the death of Malenia, no matter what might occur in the time afterwards, and the challenge of that task alone was one not even the might of the Starscourge could undertake." His other pair of hands settled over Cotesia's, squeezing gently. Raising his head back to meet her stare, something seemed to be decided in He Who Meddles; perhaps in this companionship long sought and sealed by the offer of her smile.

"Would you allow this? Knowing that our designs for the world are incompatible, even if we ourselves remain true kindred... would you allow me to lend you my strength?"