All characteristics exhibit a need to pronounce themselves. To say that those who are loudest about their pride are actually the least is a lie of the ones who wish they could be so openly boastful and arrogant, although both of these exist in the same way fashion of simply being middling. As said at the start, all characteristics exhibit a need to pronounce themselves, thus all people can be sorted by characteristic belong to one of three groups.
The first, which everyone knows about and aims for, is a trait so fulfilled it has nothing to prove. It is pride that is humble for it knows none can compete, it is strength that never moves for it can lift mountains, it is fortitude so silently enduring that it falls into the background. In all these cases, the opposite is so fully subsumed into the conscious that it is annihilated. The failure condition of humbleness to pride is removed for not a shred of inwards humbleness exists. In this context, Pride is so complete is consumes all.
This is what it truly means to master one’s character. There is no glorification of weakness and there is no need to continually test the facet. A tower that is stable does not need to be knocked down to prove its stability, likewise a bridge that crosses a valley does not need to try and leap the ocean to prove it is a bridge. Constant self-flagellation in an attempt to force scar tissue to close the wound, instead of simply letting the wound heal in the first place, is self-doubt and narcissism to the highest regard. It is doubt of one’s own subconscious and mistrust of instinctual thought to the point that one’s conscious. It is narcissism of the highest regard, it is an admittance that one thinks so much of their own power that they think the subconscious can be levelled like a playing field. I should know of this, for this is the sin of Pride, and it is the sin of what I represent.
This brings me directly onto the second point, which is a trait that is not whole, yet existent will forever try to complete itself. There is little to explain here and I will simply save my words. A need to prove a certain facet of one’s character is an attempt to convince oneself that facet is complete in the first place. The only clarification here is that it may not always be negative. It usually is not, a soul lacking in experience will fail just as much as a soul overloaded with narcissism will, except the former will find lesson in the failure.
The third point is the complete lack of a trait. It is such complete ignorance of the facet of strength that such characteristics are never even needed to be registered. There is no negativity and there is no positivity, an ant has concept of what being a human is like. In a way, this point wraps about to the first. A man may be completely ignorant of his strength because no matter what challenge was thrown at it, all challenge ultimately was swept away.
There is a very obvious conclusion to this, and it is to be extreme: One has to be extreme in weakness, or extreme in strength. Extreme in giving or extreme in selfishness. Extreme in peace, or extreme in war. It has to be extremity that reverbs with the soul.
Ultimately, both those that sleep under bushes and those that sleep in luxury can see the night-time view from the mountain. It is those that are in between, grinding in the city at the foot of the hill, that never see the view from the top.
- Excerpt from “Mere Words”, by Arascus, God of Pride.
Kavaa did not bother to knock on Malam’s door. The woman had ran off to her own home in southern Lubska and left the immortals waiting for orders. The first strike was the fact blessed men had been left unsupervised, the second strike was that Kavaa didn’t have to waste the time going to the SIS training camp in the first place. That had cost her another half a day of travel. The Goddess of Health had walked in on the Goddess of Hatred fanning herself as she lounged about on her bed. Malam lay sprawled, white hair flared out as she inspected the fabric of a shirt with one pitch-black eye. She turned to the sound and smiled Malam. The state of this room and that stupid smile was the third strike.
Kavaa scowled at Malam. The Goddess of Health had just returned from Arika. She had obviously not even changed her clothes. Her black leather boots were still caked in the red Kirinyaan dirt, her coat was dusty and its pockets were filled with sand. Even though Malam had sent her away for just a few days, she had used those few days to train a local garrison. Maybe she had been spending too much time with Kassandora as sitting had slowly just become impossible.
“It’s wonderful to see you.” Malam cooed, her tone curling as in the same way that she used when she tried to make reporters feel uncomfortable. There had been a time when that tone had made Kavaa feel off, but now she had just grown to the fact that this creature lying on the bed was just swine which happened to be bipedal.
“What the fuck is this?” Kavaa extended an arm out to the mess in the room.
“What?” Malam sat up and Kavaa did not even bother averting her eyes from the woman’s nakedness. Malam always did this. It was just infuriating. If she wasn’t effective Kavaa would have long gone to Arascus to complain and demand to be transferred to a more effective unit. “This?” Malam asked so innocently, it could have been a little girl asking for candy.
“Why does your room look like a hurricane has gone through it?” Kavaa asked.
“I was looking for clothes.”
“Hard to find here.” Kavaa said sarcastically as Malam made some ridiculous performance of dexterity. She pushed off the bed with barely a movement and landed on her feet. At least her lower half was covered. “So what are you doing here?”
“Honey.” Malam said, her tone once again that terrible, low caress that would no doubt make shallow hearts swoon. “I’m going to be in the movies.” Kavaa saw the line of attack immediately. It was petty, but she had spent almost a month with this infinite mountain of shamelessness before her. Eventually, one learned a trick or two, even from Malam.
“Those the sort of movies that require you to be naked?” Kavaa asked. It was petty but frankly, she it did feel good to make some horribly annoying comment for once.
And Malam, infuriatingly, answered immediately. She did not even let a moment go by. “Do you want a signed copy?”
Kavaa grit her teeth and clenched her hands at how it was impossible to get a reaction from this woman. But then she remembered one of Kassandora’s best lessons: wars needed to have some gain and some chance at victory to be worth fighting in the first place. A heroic last stand was only a worthy tactic when there was an audience and Kavaa had no audience here. “What is it actually?” She asked.
“Sweetie.” Malam cooed again and Kavaa kept her gaze cold. Her grey eyes met those of endless abysses of pitch-black on Malam and the two Goddesses waited for the other to flinch. Neither did, so Malam continued. “Helenna asked me.” She said dryly.
“Helenna asked you to play in a movie?” Kavaa asked. What? Why would Helenna ask Malam? Why would Malam be asked? What was this even?
“Jealous?” Malam’s fists landed on her hips and she heroically thrust her chest out as if this was anything to be impressed about.
“What movie?” Kavaa asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Excuse me?” Kavaa stared at Malam just shrug innocently. “What’s the plot then.”
“I don’t know.”
Was she being annoying in purpose? She was. She had to be. Kavaa tried to think what the Goddess of Love had been doing recently although she had to admit that she had not spent that much time with her old friend recently. They had not even rang each other. “What happens in it?”
“I don’t know.” Malam replied and Kavaa threw her arms into the air.
She knew she should control her temper. She knew it shouldn’t be like this. She had nothing to prove in front of Malam. This oxygen-thief was annoying on purpose. That was Malam’s entire game. There was no reason to get mad. “WELL DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING THEN?!”
Malam burst out in laughter and Kavaa went red. There it was. The universe had decided that the Goddess of Health was too healthy so it had sent Malam to increase her blood pressure and cortisol. “I know it’s about Raptor One.” Even Malam’s answer was annoying. Her tone was deliberate and flat, and yet her smile was so smug it made Kavaa want to knock this woman’s teeth out.
“That’s it?” Kavaa asked.
“That’s it.” Malam answered.
“Well have you read the script or what?” Kavaa thought of what this would be about but this was a flaw of Kassandora too. The woman would share her own work, but the moment even the slightest thing could be considered a breach of secrecy, she would just avoid the topic.
“I have not.” Malam replied.
“So you don’t know anything?” Kavaa asked.
“Should I know anything?” Malam asked. How hard would it be for Kavaa to draw her pistol and put a magazine’s worth of holes in the woman? Her kneecaps, her feet, her elbows and shoulders, nothing fatal. Something that she could use her powers to heal after letting Malam writhe about in pain for a few minutes.
“Are you seriously this stupid?” Kavaa asked.
“I’m confident.” Malam once again swayed her chest from side to side, Kavaa ignored her. This wouldn’t work anymore. No. Not again. “Besides, do you know who you’re talking to?”
“An enemy of decency.” Kavaa said and Malam laughed.
“That’s a good one.” The fact she was impossible to annoy even once made Kavaa want to go outside and scream into the air. That thought brought about another realisation, which was that it was actually more annoying when Kavaa’s own attempts did not land compared to when Malam was endlessly pestering Kavaa. She kept her cool though and decided to shut up. Better to save herself and let Malam just talk. “Do you really think I can’t master any role there is?” Malam asked. “And it’s written by Helenna so it’s just going to be a natural hit as well.”
Kavaa did not like that the woman made sense or that the best argument she could put up against it was a weak one. “You should be reading it for the sake of it.” Kavaa said and Malam laughed.
“Now you’re sounding like Kassie.” And just like that, all of Kavaa’s defences failed. It was one thing to compare herself internally to the Goddess of War, it was another entirely when someone else did it for her. Malam chuckled when she Kavaa’s cheeks turn read. Now that she got a rise, she finally grabbed any random white shirt off the ground and threw it on. “This one will do.”
The worst part was that it indeed did do. How the woman managed to find a shirt that was all white fabric, and yet embroidered with patterns that only revealed themselves from certain angles, Kavaa did not know. “What do you think?” Malam asked.
“It’s fine.”
“I’ll go dressed in this.” Malam said. “Button done up or no?”
“I’m not your mother.” Kavaa said and Malam stopped, her eyes grew white. Her cheeks went pale. “What?”
“Kavaa you cannot say such terrifying things.” Kavaa bit her lip that the stupid comment even made her laugh.
“I’m not going to argue whether I’d be a…” Kavaa trailed off when she realised what she was about to say.
Malam nodded. “I agree, whether you’re a good or bad mother, you’d still be the mother.” Kavaa knew she shouldn’t. She had made this mistake a thousand times already. She knew it was going to be a terrible comment. But at the end of the day, no matter how much often curiosity killed the cat, Kavaa could not just de-whisker herself.
“Do I want to know?” Kavaa knew it was going to be terrible. She wasn’t happy she asked, but at the end of the day, she did ask.
“We all know Kassie is the dad.” Malam said and leaned in close to Kavaa’s ear. “In more ways than one.” Kavaa had no reaction to give. She just threw her hand into the air and went to slap Malam across the cheek. The Goddess of Hatred slithered like a snake, she arched her spine to the side, she let Kavaa’s palm pass just above her, she grabbed Kavaa’s shoulder and pulled in line with the momentum. And Kavaa found herself in a sudden spin.
She twisted, her boot landed on carpet. Or it tried to land on carpet, it landed on clothes that gave no friction and slid along the floor. Even then, she would have recovered where it not for the jab in her side. Malam’s nail touched a nerve, Kavaa winced, her body instinctively reacted, her arm flew out, and she lost balance. The Goddess of Health landed on her back, only to find Malam’s face staring down at her. Pitch black eyes, utterly devoid of colour contrasted against porcelain-white skin and hair that was as bright as a blizzard in the day. “Tut-tut girl.” Malam said. “And here I heard you were good at fighting.”
Kavaa blinked as she stared up at Malam. But… She was though. She had survived the Great War, she had trained the Epan Nationals here, she fought in melee and without powers. People like that could not simply get away with being weak in combat. And yet… But wasn’t Malam just a propaganda Goddess? “You’re not bad.” She had to admit it.
And finally, she saw Malam smile. “Well that’s a new one.” Malam said. “Rarely do I get complemented on the obvious.” Was it possible for this woman to not be annoying for a moment? Would it kill her?
“Whatever.” Kavaa said. “Great. You got a role for a movie.” It didn’t matter, if Helenna was directing it, then it was some propaganda piece. Malam was a natural choice if some Divine was going to be an actor within it. There was no reason to inquire when the Goddess of Hatred obviously took so much joy in being such a bitch. “When is it?”
“I’m setting off tomorrow morning.” Malam said.
At first, Kavaa just sighed. Was the issue not obvious if Malam was leaving tomorrow. “Do you not the see the problem?”
“You mean Ratsweeper?” Malam asked.
“Isn’t it your operation?” Kavaa asked in return.
“And?”
“What the fuck do you mean And? Aren’t you overseeing it?”
“There’s nothing to oversee.” Malam said. “I’ll get a phonecall when it’s done but what am I supposed to do? Listen to my own farts as I sit here naked?”
Kavaa opened her mouth, got a syllable out. “Bu—” And then stopped herself as her mind caught up to what this complete disgrace to human life had said. The worst part was that she could not actually find a way to argue with the insult to intelligence that had just been stated. “So Operation Ratsweeper doesn’t need you?”
“It’s perpetually almost ready to go Kavaa.” Malam said. “I’ll give the green light but that’s all I can do. I’m not going to Rancais myself, am I? And neither are you.”
“No.” Kavaa said.
Malam made a theatrical show of thinking. Her eyes blinked several times, she tilted her head from side to side as she looked down at Kavaa. The Goddess of Health still lay on the soft shirts and skirts and dresses. It was terrible to admit but the soft silks were comfortable. “And besides, Ratsweeper can be called tomorrow or it can be called in a month. Everyone has told me to wait and you know what happens when I wait?”
“You drink?” Kavaa asked as she finally began standing up.
“I’m ashamed I’m so predictable.” The flat tone and the complete theatre of sadness on Malam’s face she was obviously not ashamed. “But yes, and I want something to do. I’ve been asked by the Goddess of Love to star in a film, so I’m handing Operation Ratsweeper off to you.”
Kavaa hated this woman. And she hated that there was utterly no way to explain the logical process in the words she was about to spew. Honestly, even when she tried to explain them to herself, she didn’t know how to. They just made sense on a purely instinctual level. “Is the only reason you’re doing it like this because I disturbed whatever you were doing here?”
And Malam gave the absolutely worst answer she could give. It was predictable though, what else did Kavaa expect? “Well we’ll never know, will we?”