#but my god they might as well have fucked sloppy style & gotten married for how much happier it was compared to tj's ending LMAOOOO

[miharuhebinata]

NEVER TRUST TV TROPES BTW TV TROPES IS A LYING FUCK.

[mysticmysterywrites-blog]

Prompt #11

One two three four I spy a myth prompt at your door.

So It gets explained more in prompt but theres an event every hundred years where a god is chosen to marry a mortal. My character is the god that's been picked to marry yours. THING IS, they're basically the god equivalent of a hermit. So most people just know WHAT they do, and if they have any myths and legends other then what they do it's in connection to the god they're around. Never truly just them personally.

Fleur is nonbinary. Normally, they take a more feminine, Dfab kind of form (Soft face, gentle curves. Long hair done in elegant styles) but before we get to anything NSFW (If we do) they will ask if their partner prefers they take their more masculine form. Like, regardless of if we do nsfw they'll ask, andThey'll still have long hair and a softer look to them, but it will change the parts they have. Thats all. Most specifics though, they stand at about 5'6, with long black hair (That has decorations and colors painted into it, along with the styles they have) and pale skin. Their eyes are completely white, but in an opal sort of way. They tend to dress simply, most of the time. However, for the wedding did dress up in a long, purple dress that seemed to have stars wooven into it, with sheer that seemed to drape over them and drag behind them. They didn't wear shoes, but no body could SEE their feet to know that. Their sleeves are made of the sheer, so while they're long and go over their hands you can see them through the cloth starting at about their elbows.

Speaking of Nsfw, while we don't HAVE to go in that direction, I really do like the idea of intimate fucking as they wait for it to dry, careful as to not ruin the paint job that Fleur just spent /so/ long on. However, it could also just be your character adapting to the life of living as a gods partner, and the two of them slowly getting to know eachother over time. Or it can be both. Both also works. You don't have to match the length of this! It's quite long, and is just the starting length.

It was a tradition. Every hundred years or so, one of their gods was to marry a mortal. One of their worshipers, preferably. It was to remind the mortals that they were there, that they were listening. And to remind themselves that despite their stance, they might as well have been one in the same with those they answer the prayers of. To not get cocky. The god's never picked among themselves. Rather, it was a ceremony. All the gods were brought together, a fire so bright and blue that it might as well have been a new sky. And as they feasted and talked, the fire would burn out, the ashes falling in the image of the next god who would be to wed the mortal.

They let the mortals scrabble among themselves to figure out how they should go about it. It was always fascinating, to see what a difference a hundred years made for mortals. Some years, the person that wed the god was completely willing, raised knowing that would be their purpose. Some years, when the crops had grown especially bad, or their temples had crumbled and the mortals felt as thought they'd been betrayed, they were given nothing more then a slave. Some years it was just the chosen god's high priestess. It was always fascinating to see how the years would affect their views, and how the person they'd picked would change.

Fleur was a god perhaps best known for two things. They were one of the oldest gods, the god that assisted with the changing of the seasons and the how the world was grown and shaped. They painted the world into what it was today, and would continue to paint the world as it changed and turned. They wouldn't say the world was in their image. Rather, that the world picked them to grow through, and they were but a vestal to its whims. There were other things they did, of course! They held domain under dreams. The type of dreams that had you feeling as though you were floating on air, where color found itself too bright and you found yourself at peace. And only on occasion did their sister rip through their dreams, tainting them with terrors and chaos. She didn't mean to, of course. That was simply how she existed, how her state of being was. And Fleur could never blame her for that.

They were also known for being.. Well. Just a bit boring. They never did bother to involve themself with the other gods and goddesses. Not too heavily, and not of their own choosing, anyway. What would it bring them? The same drama that resulted in so many wars and feuds? Why should they force the mortals to their whim, when they could simply hide themself away and paint the world to their whim. The only other gods they truly seaked out and spoke to were their sister and the goddess of sleep (And they'd had more then their fair share of.. personal moments, with the Goddess of sleep. But then again. So had their sister.)

This was the god that had been chosen to wed the mortal. And most of the gods could only think. What the hell was this flame thinking.

---

They'd be the first to admit that the wedding had been beautiful.

Of course, they could hear the whispers of both mortal and god alike. "Ah. The poor mortal, of all the gods they could have wed..." and "I pity the one who's been picked for these years". It hardly bothered them. After all, how were they suppose to find themselves angry at the mortals, when the gods around them cried the exact same phrase. The only god that truly congratulated them was their sister, but she did so in a way that seemed to cry out "Finally! You needed to get laid by a mortal!!" Perhaps a little less polite then that, but they liked to give her the benefit of the doubt.

What did bother them, however, was something they'd noticed all but half way into their ceremony. The person had been painted with their markings and and symbols. Of course they had. The mortal would be expected to wear their symbols from this day forward, to show who'd they'd been wed to. Normally, the ink would be left on over the next few days, leaving a beautiful display stained into their skin. And yet...

They'd done them wrong. The way they had painted their symbols were blocky and simplistic at best, and sloppy at worst. The priests and priestesss hadn't even bothered to place them in the right spot of their body. Of course, most deities did prefer their symbols to be placed on the shoulders and arms. Perhaps even the legs. They were not most deities. They preferred their symbols be on the upper back and face, on their sides and chest. Of course, they could work with what they'd been given should they ink permanently set into their new weds skin. But it normally took far longer for that to take hold then a length of a simple ceremony. They hadn't even gotten them the right color. While they could appreciate gold and silver on skin, their color's were purples and reds. Pinks, if they felt lighter that day.

Hm. What an inconvenience.

Perhaps that was the thing about their legacy being so clouded, of being the one that hid themself away. The mortals didn't know about them, other then to pray to them to wish their sister from the dreams. Was it any wonder it had taken so long for them to have been the one to be picked to wed.

They allowed it not to bother them for the ceremony. This was, after all, one of the few times that gods and mortals sat equally among one another, and one of the few times they could enjoy the same food and festivities. Who were they to be the one to ruin it by throwing such a fit?

It was funny, really. They hadn't even gotten the chance to speak to their new wed until the night had grown late, and they were tucked away inside their temple once more. They'd spent most of the night giving polite and uncertain smiles to the various gods that came and congratulated them, the god of romance seeming especially pleased by their wedding. Now, why would that be?

But all things came to an end, and eventually they'd been allowed back to their temple. With their new wed, of course. Their temple was all but tucked away, build into the mountains and forgotten about by mortals. For mortals, it would have been quite a hike to get to it. Days, if you knew where you were going, and weeks if you didn't. But they knew where to go, and they weren't a mortal. They were outside their temple within minutes of being dismissed, the haze of a mid-night on the ground around them.

Their temple was beautiful. Just as beautiful as the wedding had been, truthfully. The glass of the windows was stained and colored, and silks and lace hang from the ceiling to decorate the rooms. The halls of the building were decorated, such in a way that It would seem as though no part of the building went unpainted. Beautiful scenes of fields and mountains, of the ocean that broke against their shore line. Of the stars and the sky above them. Every wall held a new mural, crafted and hand painted with time and delicate hands. But it was empty. They didn't take many priests or priestesses, and truth be told they didn't have any active ones at the moment. The temples upkeep was from themself alone. It was.. lonely, they supposed. But lonely in a way that gave them the space they needed to think, and didn't have mortals fussing over the right and wrong way to do things.

So boring. But peaceful.

The room they'd led them to, however, was... surprisingly modest, considering the rest of the temple. Cloth covered the archway, creating something of a door to the room. This was more for looks then privacy. It wasn't as though they had many people coming their way. A fire burned in a fire place, heating a cauldron of water. Another cauldron of water stood a fair distance away from the fire place, filled with just as much water. It had long ago been chilled and cooled. Just as bellow them, their windows were colored with reds and purples. Hardly as sight at night, but when the day would come the room would fill with color, leaving the white marble stained with light. The window had, however, for now been left open, letting the stars glisten and the wind blow the silks and cloth. Letting cool air into the room.

The bed was the grandest part of it, far wider then any two people would need. Pillows had been placed about it piled high against the wall, far more bankets then needed thrown on top of one another. The bed itself looked as though sitting on it would cause the person to sink into it. They were, after all, the god of dreams. They spent just as much time asleep as they did painting, and truly preferred to be comfortable while doing so. A sweet smelling incense had long ago stopped burning, but the scent lingered and smugged the air. They'd need to burn a new one, they'd muse.

The worst of their room had to be the mess in the corner. Paints that had long ago spilled, cloth that had been sewn and cut and hung up. Pelts that had been painted on, the walls that seemed to glisten with color. It was a mess, but in it's own fascinating way.. it was a beautiful one. They found their fingers itching to finally sit back down for the night, to assist in the way the seasons would soon change from winter to spring. They had a lot of painting to do around this time of year.

Instead, their attention turned to their mortal partner. There was, of course, "expectations" for the first night of newly weds. Their sister had howled and laughed about how EVERYONE was going to have sweet dreams for the night, how she'd do her /best/ to stay back and let everyone know what a good time they were inevitably having. And while.. yes, the mortal was undeniably attractive (At least someone had known to make the outfit they'd been placed in red, something made of fine cloth that showed off the symbols on their arms and legs quite nicely. They'd been decorated in make-up and jewels, accents to an outfit that already showed their figure off quite well) the found themself more focused on the ink job then on the person under it.

"Strip," Was their first word to their new lover. They all but commanded it (Despite their tone, they seemed uncertain of themselves at the words, eyes refusing to meet the mortals and hands fumbling into their own sleeves), already moving to grab both a bowl and cloth (they could take them out to the hot water that pooled around their temple outside to remove the symbols, sure. But they found that now that they were in a place they could actually do something about it, it bothered them far more then when they couldn't), and some of the various paints and inks that they found the color to their liking of, "They. Did your symbols wrong. I wish to fix them before the ink sets."