The Grail Works Mission Dossier (Discussion & Ideas)

[Kieran]

The really interesting part to me is definitely that people develop bonds by sharing information about themselves, and Godafrid's nature and knowledge is a big thing. The temptation to have a "ah, but did you ever really know your friend" moment seems overwhelmingly strong.

Especially since, at least in Persona 3, it was possible to reverse Social Links . . .

Ooh, or Shadow Godafrid. Limit Break-analogous things are delicious. That seems like it could be really satisfying late in a story, but would need a ton of setup to make it work.

Which would be part of the payoff for writing it, of course.

But yeah, in more common bonding sorts of interaction, Frid tends to fumble a bit on the side of gallantry, which works for him, but isn't really emotional vulnerability, and makes him a bit... different. That might suffice, given how Persona protagonists behave.

It'd be interesting to see - particularly in, say, Persona 5, where certain members are all about taking it to the "shitty adults," whereas being one, Frid's inclined to cut some of them a bit more slack . . .

I was WONDERING why that name was different and didn't realize.

And it sounds similar enough that Frid either ascribed the difference to her pronunciation, or he was identifying her as "Utsumi" in his head at the same time and didn't catch it.

And the angrish, right, and you specifically pointed out "similarities to Marie", and I forgot which Marie was contextually relevant. And I think I read things, sheesh.

No harm done. It happens to me, periodically, too - but you can understand why I found your initial response quite confusing . . .?

That definitely puts a completely different spin on what we expect to happen during the main Persona 4 plot. Oh goodness.

Precisely - and it would be interesting to write. Especially if Yu Narukami still shows up . . .

I admit, when it comes to Persona 4 in terms of canon love interests, I'm torn. Just focussing on the game's story as written, (and thereby leaving aside my personal attraction to Yukiko), Rise is so obviously interested in the protagonist and adorable with it (while being very demonstrably a fifteen-year-old girl) that I can't help but root for her - and the fact that she's basically the lead of Dancing All Night more-or-less confirms her status. But Marie is so obviously intended as the protagonist's partner throughout the story (and equally adorable, in her way) that it's hard not to see them together - and neither girl really seems to have an alternative possibility available (whereas Chie, Yukiko and Naoto each have at least one potential paramour somewhere else in the game; if you read Yukiko as potentially bisexual, anyway).

And if I was going to pair Frid with either of them, Marie is slightly less squicky, since the age difference is harder to quantify, unlike Rise; Marie could variably be read as 16 - 17, "however-many-weeks her current incarnation's existed" (Margaret does say she has a "young" soul), or thousands of years old . . .

[Kieran]

Tatsuhime Shine, Inaba
Time still unknown








Pain retreated as consciousness returned. It didn’t vanish, not entirely, but what had been what felt like the time he’d thrown his back out to the point it took ten minutes to put on pants dulled itself to something more like his usual chronic aches; something that he hadn’t felt since dealing with the Works, but familiar enough to deal with. The sudden cold (and wet) nose against the side of his neck, on the other hand, was surprising enough to send Frid up bolting upright with a yell.

The answering yip of surprise as he did so nearly caused enough panic in Frid to drown out the sudden surge of pain from moving way too fast; the absolutely last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt some poor animal; much less a—

“Fox?” Frid asked, almost to himself, before automatically murmuring in a “baby talk” voice, “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you hurt . . .?”

Carefully, Frid looked over the animal, trying to remember not to hold eye contact, lest it think it was a challenge. He’d been thinking [“small dog” or “puppy” from the tenor of the noise, but it was a fox, and one far larger than the sound had implied; not so tall (about the height of his knee), but long—on hind legs, it would probably reach his chin. It had no visible injuries but was also obviously used to roughing it—there was a nasty scar running vertically down the middle of one eye, and hints of a few more on its sides from his current angle. At the same time, however, it also wore a bib . . .?

No, it was a red apron, worn as a bib—and a bib with ruffles and pink hearts on it, no less!

“. . . Somebody loves you, don’t they?” he murmured. “Or they did, at least.”

Frid could think of several reasons for a human to be stupid enough to try and put something like that on a wild animal—but a lot fewer for the animal to allow it; or keep it, for that matter. On the other hand, he remembered reading abour and seeing video of attempts to keep pet foxes; and of at least one “fox village”—a sort-of sanctuary in Japan where the animals were in no way domesticated, but at least somewhat used to humans . . .

Are you a feral former pet, maybe . . .?

A sudden wind caused him to blink, turn his head—and abruptly take in the dilapidated structures around them. The penny dropped, as they said in Britain; he’d barely interacted with the Social Link in the game, but the Fox of Tatsuhime Shrine had been a focus of one of the sweeter, funnier episodes in the Persona 4 anime. This was not a pet, turned feral or otherwise; or if it was, it had either been intended as a stand-in for, or since become, the guardian spirit of the now-abandoned shrine.

Slowly and carefully, he bowed from the waist as deeply as he could from a sitting position.

“You have my sincerest apologies for both the fright and the intrusion—neither were intended on my part,” he said to it.

The Fox regarded him wordlessly, head tilted slightly to one side.

Frid could, he supposed, invoke a Charm or two to see exactly what he was dealing with—but the Essence expenditure and/or the resulting anima flare that was liable to result could be taken as a hostile act. It would be a poor repayment to a spirit who, so far as he could tell, had been checking on him in concern. And while he was worlds away—both metaphorically and literally—from the Bone Shadow Tribe of werewolves, he agreed with their philosophy of “Pay Each Spirit In Kind.”

Well that, at least, should be simple enough . . .

Getting up took more effort than Frid would’ve liked. The enervation was more mental than physical, but he hadn’t felt this bad since he’d first stumbled through the Door to the Works . . . Or maybe since the Seldarine had decided to metaphysically flay him alive and graft an ersatz Spark of Exaltation onto what they’d uncovered before stitching a new covering over it—the two experiences weren’t entirely dissimilar. Still, he’d always been a stubborn sort, and Lunar Exalts were survivors; bulling through pain and/or (and, it was definitely “and”) exhaustion wasn’t anything new for him. In a moment (or maybe two . . . Or five), Frid was on his feet, and scanning the grounds.

The Tatsuhime Shrine was abandoned, he knew that; still used a bit, by the locals (he’d seen a “festival date” in videos of some of the romantic Social Link routes that took place there) but a video screen couldn’t really convey the depths of the neglect. The paint on the torii—the big red “gate” structures iconic to Japanese shrines—was faded and cracking, with paint peeling or totally gone in some spots. The whole place seemed to be covered in a layer of dust that caused old allergy memories to surge up despite not having them anymore . . . It wasn’t a complete loss, yet, but the level of sheer neglect was disheartening.

The offerings box and its associated “wishing tree” (where petitioners hung plaques of prayer) were relatively untouched, though. That even made sense, in a symbolic sort of way; that the last thing to crumble would be the hope of communion between the material and the spiritual.

Frid wasn’t religious, much less Shinto or Buddhist; but the Exalts of his caste were the sages, sorcerers, lorekeepers, philosophers and priests of Luna; bridging that gap was part of what they did. As such, he felt some obligation to at least try to help fix things, even beyond the spirit’s apparent kindness—and from his limited memories of the Social Link involved, the Fox was at least trying to earn money for the shrine . . .

Frid reached into a pants pocket and drew money from Elsewhere. Tori might’ve (literally) eaten up a lot of funds in their time together, but he’d managed to squirrel away more than she ever saw him pick up. And Tamamo’s little talisman was handy for making sure he had legal Japanese yen on hand, whatever the original denomination of the funds he collected. She’d laughed, of course, in that “amused noblewoman” way of hers—as much, he was sure, because of his insistence on being honest about things as for the absurdity of the request itself, given his usual modus operandi.

But the peace of mind that came with knowing that he and those he bought from wouldn’t be arrested for counterfeiting had been worth it, and it paid off in circumstances like this.

What greeted his eyes was a stack of—he rifled through them quickly—ten 10 000-yen bills. Less to work with than it sounded like, with Japanese pricing schemes, but he could live on the streets if he had to, better than most humans or animals could. The money was nice to have, but it wasn’t really a necessity, at the moment; that being the case, Frid quickly forked six of the ten bills into the offerings box.

“For the trouble,” he told the Fox, who immediately walked over to the box and began counting.

That actually didn’t surprise him—he’d seen Tamamo like that, after all—and he immediately dismissed the behavior to focus on the tricky part. Frid bowed his head, clapped his hands, and . . . It wasn’t quite prayer. It also wasn’t quite a prana transfer, as a magus would do it, either; but it had elements of both, combined with an instinct etched somewhere in the core of his ersatz Exaltation.

(A core, a distant corner of his mind noted, that seemed to be both smaller and yet producing more Essence, somehow—and how was that possible?!)

. . . Regardless, Frid thought he’d managed to offer up at least a portion of his Essence Pool; certainly, the wave of light-headedness that struck immediately afterwards implied it—as did the smoky haze of soft twilight, edged in silver light, that was surrounding him. The circle of burning cold on his forehead indicated that his Caste Mark was glowing brightly, and his tattoos were visible under its light.

Spent enough Essence to flare my anima banner, Frid noted uncomfortably, grateful that no one other than the Fox seemed to be in sight to notice. Still, he’d best hide until the effect faded—until he had a better idea of what was going on, unobtrusive was the way to go here . . .

Only after he’d had the thought did the Fox’s second startled yelp penetrate his thoughts. Alarmed, he looked up to find the guardian staring at him in a way no normal animal ever would.

“For the kindness,” Frid said, finding his words slower and thicker than he expected. He spent more Essence than he’d meant to, but not much, given that his anima banner was only “glowing,” and not a pillar of light visible for miles; how little had he had in the tank . . .?

“For the kindness,” he repeated, more carefully, “of being concerned for me, not simply about me.” He took a deep breath, feeling the worst of the symptoms pass. “That deserves rewarding, too—I don’t know if you can use that, but you’re more than welcome to it . . .

“And if it’s all right with you,” he continued, “I’m going to linger until this dissipates—no point in freaking out the mortals, eh?” He sighed, looking at the ground. “I shouldn’t be more than half an hour; again, I’m sorry for the troub—”

There was suddenly a face filling his vision, a cold, wet nose bumping his own as the weight and momentum of a leaping fox sent him staggering back against one of the shrine’s pillars.

The Fox barked, in a reproachful tone—but its tail was wagging excitedly.

[Thou art I . . . And I am thou . . .
Thou hast established a new bond . . .
It brings thee closer to the truth . . .
Thou shalt be blessed when creating Personas of the Hierophant Arcana . . .]

What. The. HELL . . .?

Again, Frid wasn’t a Persona-wielder, much less a Wild Card; he had absolutely no use for “blessings,” Social Links, and so forth! So, what in the bloody hell had THAT been about . . .?!

The fact that it was for the wrong Arcana was unnerving, too. . . But with a little thought, that was almost understandable. People weren’t just one thing, and rarely related to everybody the same way—children treated their parents different from the way other adults, or other children, would, for example. The Fox might correlate to the Hermit so far as Yu Narukami was concerned—a distant and mysterious sage of great wisdom—but for someone with a closer link to the supernatural, it was just another spirit, albeit an elder one to be respected.

But why did it happen in the FIRST PLACE?!

Something was pushing him to be involved, here—and it wasn’t brute-forcing him down the canon path—or he’d have woken up as Yu Narukami at the train station, or at least made the Hermit Arcana Social Link with the Fox . . .

Now frustrated (and more than a little unnerved) Frid sat down against the pillar and began mentally inventorying his resources; whatever was coming, he intended to be as ready as he could be to meet it—though he felt a nagging certainty that it wouldn’t be enough . . .

Just how, exactly, did I get myself into this mess . . .?








Avalon Castle, Phantasmagoria Island (Grail Works. Ltd. Headquarters)
Beyond the boundaries of time and space








Ilya stopped, suddenly, as a horrible possibility occurred to her. “Um—Onii-chan, I have a silly question . . .”

Shirou smiled. “I don’t think any question you could have is silly, Ilya—what is it?”

“Did you remember to ask them to tell Frid-san that he’d been volunteered for this . . .?”

“O—” Shirou stopped in mid-syllable, and then looked blank. “Um . . .”

Ilya sighed. “Darn it, Onii-chan . . .”








Writer’s Notes: I was all set to give a Persona 5 version a shot while I wait for RB to finish his stuff (so I can help add to/refine it), but it turns out there’s at least a little more in the tank for this one. And, of course, an omake to go with it . . .










Omake – The Other Joke (?) “La-” . . . OH, CRA—!








While he was well aware of them, Frid hadn’t given much thought to the oddities of his time in the “TV World.”

After all, the realm of Shadows and Personas was connected to the collective human unconscious—and while he very much was human, for all his abilities, he wasn’t exactly local. Why would he expect to cast a Shadow, in a world that wasn’t his . . .? As for his lack of a Persona—well, he had Charms and spells meant to bind demons, the dead, elementals, gods, and other such spiritual beings—it wasn’t exactly a loss, all things considered . . . But right here and now? At the end of the road, with all allies down and running on empty . . .? It would’ve been comforting. Having a Persona he’d built into an Ultimate form would’ve been a big confidence booster at this particular moment.

Strategies flashed through his head, desperate options that would result in anything, any way, to stop this—or him dying, really, though if he had to do the latter to achieve the former, there wasn’t much of a choice . . .

What Frid had heretofore failed to consider, however, was the fact that the games of Persona were interconnected; past elements and events carried on into future ones—sometimes simply for a laugh, sometimes as continual plot elements—but their individual presence did not invalidate the others.

. . . And that while the expression of it varied from game to game, the gaining of a Persona through trauma and resolve was a constant.

Ears attuned to literally ephemeral sound (meaning, sounds that did not physically exist) heard the shattering of glass—the breaking of barriers, in more than one sense. From behind Frid rose a silhouette, a form being cast upon the world; and with it, in deep, resonant tones, came the familiar words . . .

“I am thou, and thou art—”







“M̵̬͓̞͙̺̠̜͔̯̆̏͒̌̒͂̽̄͊̈́͑͝Į̷̝͙͇͔̲͉̝̘̲̟̺̓̉͒̔̌́N̴̛̅̾̚ ̡͈̲̟͙͍̮̣͙̯̤̭̮͉ͅE!̴̛̼̀̑̀͑̎̌͋̉̀͆́͌̕”










The word was shrieked, with a sound like a chill autumn wind scraping dried leaves across a gravestone, and yet the voice was even more resonant than before, like the tolling of a funeral bell. The half-formed being of the Persona split, impaled from within by a golden spire; it was joined by several more, which began drilling their way out of it, lightning crackling between the ends, as they flew apart to rearrange themselves to form a tight, seemingly impenetrable cage around the lingering, burning remnants of the Persona . . . And then that cage flew, shrinking as it went—

To fit comfortably, like a watchman’s lantern, into its creator’s waiting hand.

Against the almost-entirely shielded glow of what was, in many ways, his own soul, the icy mien of the blonde seemed to soften, for an instant; what might have been a smile crossed her face, but it could equally have as easily been a trick of that light. In less time than it took to blink, any imperfections in the imperious cast of her face were erased, leaving only the stern and uncompromising sovereign.

“My, my,” she said lightly, in a brittle tone that crackled like the ground threatening to give way under one’s feet. “I turn my back for a moment, and this happens . . . You’re nearly as bad as Ritsuka-san.”

She shook her head, sending those familiar blonde twin-tails flying in a gesture that would’ve been cute if the situation wasn’t so terrifying . . . After all, Ereshkigal sounded calm, but her eyes were gold, which was meant that she was both very serious, and extremely unhappy. But—and this was more important—it wasn’t Rin’s face she was wearing.

“Rise . . .?”

The voice was so weak that even Frid wasn’t sure who’d asked the question; and at that moment, he didn’t actually care. his entire focus was on the goddess clad in gold and silk, knowing that Ishtar in a host that wasn’t Rin—a host who, in fact, had no personality to speak of to filter the goddess through—had been a heartless bitch . . .

And that Ishtar, relatively speaking, was the nice one.

“I knew I should’ve kept you to myself . . .” she murmured. “But later—first, I want a word with you.”

Izanami-no-Okami started at being abruptly singled out.

I? You demand to—

“I can do that, too,” Ereshkigal said coldly, her voice suddenly possessing the same odd reverb effect. “But I find it a waste of effort. Instead, I’ll make this simple: you just attempted to take something of mine.”

And you are an intruder in My realm, seeking to make demands—what authority do you think you have here . . .?

Ereshkigal frowned, her eyes narrowing to slits. “I have a contract—and better still, a loophole.”

The giant eldritch abomination twitched, giving the impression of blinking despite being eyeless.

“Loophole . . .?”

Now the Sumerian Queen of Night bared her teeth, in an expression that no one could call a smile (and which looked disturbingly at home on Rise Kujikawa).

“Yes . . . The Skill, after all, is called ‘Protection of the Underworld’—not ‘Protection of Kur.’”

Dropping into a kneeling position, Frid offered up his weapon, placing it in Ereshkigal’s hand before it had even been fully extended—for the goddess’ part, she grasped it without looking, rightly assuming that it would be there when she wanted it.

“I,” she announced brightly, “will kill as many death goddesses as I have to in order to get the message across—HANDS OFF, HE’S MINE . . .!”










Additional Writer's Notes: Amusingly, I could see this working in Persona 5, as well; while Ann has the obviously physical resemblance, Haru strikes me as remarkably compatible with Ereshkigal, personality-wise . . .

[Arbitrarity]

Interesting. Heirophant fits the fox, as you pointed out. Normally Dojima has that link, so I have no idea what that means for other Social Link re-mapping. That seems like a powerful tool to illustrate or inform the different ways Godafrid relates to people relative to Yu.
A talisman of "converts currency to legal currency of whatever denomination is legal at the time" seems incredibly fitting for Tamamo to make, and is just the sort of useful yet not fraudulent tool I'd associate with a more spiritual view on "the value of money".

Possessive Ereshkigal is cute yet scary. She just stuck his Persona into a lantern? Yikes. I wonder if we're treating her like Hel was an alternative guise, or Eresh just killed her previously. I'm a bit unclear on what weapon Godafrid is offering, though it may not actually matter.

(Haru is ALSO scary)

[Kieran]

Interesting. Heirophant fits the fox, as you pointed out. Normally Dojima has that link, so I have no idea what that means for other Social Link re-mapping. That seems like a powerful tool to illustrate or inform the different ways Godafrid relates to people relative to Yu.

Which makes it almost worth using even without the Persona aspect. (And I have found Charms, so far, where a Lunar can eat spirits to temporarily fuse them/their attributes with himself, so I suppose there is a way to use that mechanic . . .)

As for the Links - just off the top of my head, he might see Nanako as the Star Arcana, given his association of innocence and joy with small children; or even the Moon, if he realises she's not as happy and cheerful as she seems. Others would require careful though, but that's an obvious one that springs to mind.

A talisman of "converts currency to legal currency of whatever denomination is legal at the time" seems incredibly fitting for Tamamo to make, and is just the sort of useful yet not fraudulent tool I'd associate with a more spiritual view on "the value of money".

Yes. Handy for the Works as a whole, too - it means they're not defrauding anyone, and have usable resources available (assuming they have any in the first place, of course).

Possessive Ereshkigal is cute yet scary. She just stuck his Persona into a lantern?

Well, a Persona does come "from the sea of thy soul," and his is VERY CLEARLY spoken for. That's exactly the point she's trying to make, in fact. Stupid foreign death goddesses trying to kill him on their turf, thinking that means they can claim him afterwards . . .

Yikes.

Well, Eresh is popularly noted for having some yandere tendencies, naturally; it seems that Rise, as a host, isn't quite the restraint on those tendencies that Rin is. Whether that's due to her own passionate nature, or something else, I leave to your imagination (for the moment, at least) - but it's just possible that she's a little ticked off about the whole "Marie" thing . . .

I wonder if we're treating her like Hel was an alternative guise, or Eresh just killed her previously.

Probably the latter - although it's possible he's run into another death goddess, somewhere. I'm just not sure who or how that might be, at the moment.

I'm a bit unclear on what weapon Godafrid is offering, though it may not actually matter.

Presumably something designed to really hurt.

(Haru is ALSO scary)

Yes, she is - which would make her perfect. (Also sheltered, remarkably shy, has an interest in gardening - all things that also match Eresh.)

[Kieran]

Yomotsu Hirasaka
Path 9









I AM MERELY TRYING—TO GRANT THE WISHES OF HUMANITY—

“NOT MY HUMAN, YOU’RE NOT!”

“. . . So, let me get this straight,” Kanji said uncertainly, not sure he wasn’t hallucinating due to a concussion. “He finally awakened a Persona—without having to go through all that ‘facing your Shadow’ stuff—and it somehow ended up possessing Rise-chan?”

“Yup,” Yosuke said. “Then she went all Super Saiyan and started beating on that thing calling itself ‘Izanami’ like it insulted her idol career, her fashion sense and her weight all in the same breath.”

Eldritch screams of agony punctuated the truth of that statement.

“That’s . . .” Naoto hesitated a beat, before continuing, “a colourful summation, but not entirely inaccurate.” She paused to consider the scene. “Also, I somehow find it strangely cathartic watching a girl of Rise’s age and build so thoroughly prove to be the superior combatant—”

An oddly crystalline tinkling heralded the sudden appearance of a Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton erupting from the ground—and all those who witnessed the subsequent chomping couldn’t help but compare it to the ringing of a dinner bell. The addition of a Triceratops skeleton to impale the eldritch abomination like an errant piece of sushi only heightened the resemblance.

“—Even though I can’t even theoretically explain what’s going on any longer, never mind rationally doing so,” she finished flatly, a defeated look on her face.

“That’s easy, Naoto—it’s called ‘girl power for the WIN!’” Chie cheered. She jumped in place, fists waving excitedly. “GO, RISE-CHAN! KICK ITS ASS!”

“My, my,” Ereshkigal said in a tone like poisoned honey, and all the more unnerving coming out with Rise’s natural cheerfulness. “I do believe that humanity just MADE A WISH . . . !”

“So!” Yosuke said brightly, turning away from the increasingly graphic carnage (and even more graphic and enthusiastic descriptions of oncoming carnage), “I’m terrified of Rise-chan in a whole new way, now—and should we be worried? I mean, what’s she liable to do, exactly, once she’s finished with . . .?”

He waved in that direction without looking back—the sounds were bad enough, and the screams were only half the problem.

“When she’s finished,” he repeated lamely.

“To you, probably nothing,” Frid assured him. “Now me, on the other hand . . .”

“Um, I have a question . . .” Yukiko said shyly.

“Just ONE?” thought more than one member of the team.

“Yes, Amagi-san?”

Yukiko blinked, taken aback. “Amagi—?”

“Her hearing is better than you’d think, even occupied as she is,” Frid said bluntly. “And while Ereshkigal’s normally admirably rational and even-handed, she’s feeling possessive right now. I’d rather not give her a reason, however spurious, to even think you’re a threat.”

Yukiko went an impressive shade of pale for a Japanese girl; she resembled a porcelain doll.

“Yeah,” the Exalt said with a grimace. “In any case, go ahead and ask your question.”

“Oh!” Yukiko blinked, visibly startled. “. . . Uh, right.” She hesitated a moment, and then said, “If you had a Persona this powerful, why didn’t you use it before now? It looks like you could’ve ended all this months ago, going by . . . Well, that.”

“Because as you might’ve guessed, Ereshkigal isn’t actually a Persona, and she’s not ‘mine,’ exactly—though I’m certainly hers . . .”

“YOU HEAR THAT, YOU MISERABLE PILE OF—?!”

“. . . Wow, either Rise’s exerting more influence than I thought, or she was holding herself back a lot before in order to appear dignified.” After a beat, Frid cleared his throat. “OK, you’ve noticed that your Personas tend to manifest as mythological figures, right? And that those manifestations are described as a ‘summons?’ She hijacked mine in order to appear like this—probably under the loophole that she’s been allowed to do something similar before—but even so, she needed a compatible host to sync with; it’s a different way of restraining her power than by channelling it through a psychic projection, but it’s still a restraint.

“I have to say, though, I’m surprised at her choice,” Frid admitted. “Kujikawa-san always struck me as closer to her sister’s type, as far as preference goes—if anyone, I’d have expected her to go for Amagi-san.”

“EXCUSE ME?!” Yukiko burst out, shocked and finding herself more than a little offended.

“Ordinarily, Amagi-san, Ereshkigal is very reserved, professional, and quiet to the point of being shy—it’s just that right now, describing her as absolutely furious is probably understating things.”

“I’M GOING TO TAKE ALL THOSE STUPID BUTTONS AND SHOVE THEM—!”

“. . . Yeah, that sounds about right,” Yosuke agreed. “I don’t think Rise-chan was even that angry over the hot springs . . .”

He winced at the angry glares from the other three females among his friends, and Frid decided to forego saying “I told you so” (for the umpteenth time), and instead try to explain.

“That’s probably less Rise than Ereshkigal,” he said contemplatively. “See, if Izanami had decided to just wipe my memory about all this, or imprison me for the remainder of my natural life span, she wouldn’t have cared; even just killing me via proxy, like by burying me under an army of Shadows, she probably would’ve ultimately ignored . . .”

Ignoring the looks of dawning horror on the teens’ faces, Frid continued, “However, Izanami is a goddess of the dead who tried to kill me personally, on her own turf, which could her give her a claim on my soul—right of conquest, and all that. But my afterlife has been very thoroughly planned out, thank you very much; and she doesn’t tolerate rivals any better than her sister does—they wouldn’t fight so much, otherwise. That’s the driving reason she’s here.”

“Phrasing it like that, however,” Naoto prompted, “implies that you think there are other reasons she’s here, as well.”

Frid winced, but reluctantly admitted, “Well, it’s just possible that she’s a little ticked off about Marie . . .”

“Huh,” Yosuke noted. “That would explain why she picked Rise-chan, I guess—”

“It’s mostly that she was the only one of them still conscious at the time!” the blonde deity called back—offering further proof that yes, she could hear them, even at a conversational volume, and was paying attention, even as thoroughly engrossed as she seemed to be in her macabre task.

Then she turned back to Izanami. “AND I’D ALMOST FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOUR LITTLE HONEY TRAP—!”

“. . . Huh,” Frid remarked after a moment. “Looks like Ishtar wasn’t the only one to pick up some bajiquan from Rin.”

“. . . Is that what that is?” Kanji asked. “They are nice moves—very graceful.”

“Yeah,” Chie agreed. “Think I could get her to teach me?”

“Are you crazy, Chie?” Yosuke spluttered. “You seriously want to go up against that?!”

Chie glared at him. “I said want to learn from her, not spar with her . . .!”

The boy shook his head, turning to Frid, “You always struck me as being a little weird, but you seriously dated HER?!”

“Almost the first words out of your mouth when you met Marie was an attempt to hit on her,” Frid countered flatly. “In other words, you made a pass at an avatar of that.”

“Grk!” Yosuke stiffened, involuntarily turning towards the (now-mutilated) deity in question, before going several very unhealthy-looking colours at once.

Further discussion, however, was cut off as the entire area began shaking violently—and not, as one might expect, because Ereshkigal had gotten herself especially worked up, but because the entire dimension was collapsing. Naturally, most of their time and energy was spent escaping, with a tiny portion of Frid’s consciousness devoted to worrying about exactly what this new incarnation/fusion of Eresh would end up doing to him—or to Rise, for that matter.

As it turned out, upon returning to Inaba proper, before he or anyone else could even really ask questions, Frid found himself getting tackled by an unexpectedly affectionate glacier . . .








Tatsuhime Shine, Inaba
After Izanami’s defeat








She felt him tense as the chill of her nature connected with his living warmth, but he relaxed, even as she greedily nestled against him for more of it. It wouldn’t heat her being, though even clothed in mortal flesh, she didn’t truly feel the cold any more than mortals were aware of the activity of every cell in their bodies—it was simply who and what she was, always. No, she clung to him because beyond the initial shock of her touch, he was troubled no further. No muscles tensed in reaction to her freezing arms wrapping around his neck, her icy thighs against his hips; no magics shielded him from her cold, though she knew he possessed such—she was simply welcome, as she was.

Queen of the Great Earth, she was named; supreme goddess of the Underworld, and absolute monarch over all who ventured within—yet Ereshkigal had discovered that even she, cold as the death she ruled, was not wholly immune to the meaning of a campfire, of the warmth provided by hearth and home and friendship. Here and now, beneath her fingers, burned her flame; offered willingly and without fear, only the promise of welcome, always . . .

And she touched him, and he did not flinch; she buried herself against his body and stole the heat from his skin, and he only smiled and asked if she was comfortable—and the promise was upheld.

“I’m feeling very improper right now,” she admitted. “It must be my host . . . You’re right—this child would be more suited to Ishtar.”

“Rise is nothing if not passionate, in everything she does,” he admitted. “It just sometimes takes her a while to figure out what she wants to do.”

“And this new host is so tiny,” Ereshkigal complained. “My eye level is off from where I expect it to be.”

“Are you about to complain that she’s a vessel unsuitable for your grandeur?” he asked dryly. “That is an Ishtar sort of complaint . . .”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, no—you’re right! It’s worse than I thought, I’ve made a terrible mistake . . .!”

“So, why Rise?”

His tone was inoffensive, but the question made it clear—he’d seen through her tiny fib. She was a bit surprised that none of the others had worked it out (one of them was supposed to be a solver of puzzles, weren’t they?), but not that he had, even as her cheeks reddened at being caught. After all, why wouldn’t someone closer to death be easier for her to contact? Why not, as he’d suggested, choose the girl closer to her own self as a host, rather than one that was more suitable for her sister . . .?

“Because she is more like my sister,” Ereshkigal admitted. “Impulsive, passionate, more likely to dive into things without worrying about things like consequences, or how it might be seen . . . Things that I thought might help me go through with this plan.”

“Plan?” he asked, in the same tone that some mortals might say “Bomb?”

Ereshkigal smiled in self-satisfaction. She did so love explaining the intricacies of her work . . .

“Well, after all,” she said slyly. “You have done a heroic thing in saving this place—this town, and perhaps and this world—and it is traditional for a hero to be rewarded, and for a goddess to reward her followers. And if that chosen reward is beneath the dignity of a goddess, then obviously, it’s the influence of my vessel . . . And unlike last time, there can hardly be an argument that my vessel is an innocent bystander in all of this—you did turn her down earlier, did you not . . .?”

“Of course I did—even if you weren’t a factor, she’s only fifteen, and I’m—”

“‘Literally old enough to be her father’—which is true enough,” Ereshkigal admitted. “I, on the other hand, am as old as civilisation itself; your argument is no longer valid. I can certainly prevent any long-term consequences, and she is quite eager to reward her hero, Sem ~ pai . . .”

She ran her fingers across his chest, and his heart rate indicated that the shivers they provoked had nothing to do with her inherent cold—

“You are definitely Ishtar’s sister,” he hissed—before all his muscles suddenly locked in place.

“My Queen, did you deliberately set all this up, just so that you could have sex and I’d have no real excuse to refuse . . .?”

Ereshkigal threw back her head and laughed, as she could never remember having laughed before.

“Finally, I made a plan that worked . . .!”

Fin

[Arbitrarity]

I love this. I love so much of this. I am slightly uncomfortable at the end, but it fits really well, and I think this omake is better for having it.

The casual conversation as an absolutely brutal beatdown is going on is one of my favorite sorts of framing that only works in omake or other mediums that don't take themselves too seriously. The pauses are absolutely hilarious to imagine.
I also really enjoy your descriptions of trust. There have been a few of them over the years, but they're always fuzzy and evocative, and uniquely tailored to the character. You do really satisfying work with emotional intimacy, and I could read those all day.

[Kieran]

I love this. I love so much of this.

Thank you.

I am slightly uncomfortable at the end, but it fits really well, and I think this omake is better for having it.

I admit, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision to go in that direction with the last scene, but one that, in hindsight, made everything make so much sense . . .

The original idea was simply "twin-tailed goddess possesses twin-tailed mortal," in my head. That Rise, as a navigator, has no combat skills simply meant she'd have an outlet for her frustrations at watching her friends get hurt; that she shares a seiyuu with Nobunaga was tempting, but the ruined the whole "Lancer" joke. Likewise, Ishtar might've been more appropriate, given her (and Rise's) connection to the Lovers Arcana, but again, ruined the joke.

(The fact that Ereshkigal isn't part of the SMT series, but her husband, parents and freaking messenger - her son, in fact! - ARE was also freeing but an injustice I saw an opportunity to correct here.)

In refreshing my memory where Rise is concerned, however, I found more. As previously noted, Rise is passionate. While she accepts being turned down just fine, she flirts with the protagonist whether or not she ends up dating him, and regardless of if he's dating someone else. And it's not just her Shadow that's prone to innuendo; the end of her dialogue during the New Year's shrine "date" makes it fairly clear that she's anticipating sex; she brushes it off in one dialogue option as a joke, but is honestly annoyed in the other that you're not thinking the same way - and this is after deciding to resume her idol career, which makes the idea a cardinal sin . . .

Now granted, this is after reaching a maximum - or fairly high, at least? - intimacy level; Rise's not easy, by any means. But it did point to an influence that was very much more like (mythological) Ishtar than Ereshkigal (barring certain myths about her tempting Nergal deliberately), and led me to consider how that filter might affect our favourite goddess of the dead. Eventually, I realised that it might be the point, in fact - to nudge Ereshkigal into doing something she would normally be too responsible to do, no matter how tempted; and thinking that led me to make a connection that maybe that was the point - which would finally explain WHY Frid was in Persona 4, with just enough railroading to make it happen: it was all part of Ereshkigal's elaborate scheme to finally get laid.

(Admittedly, it's also an attempt to handwave dealing with anime crushes, which gets harder as I get older - a Persona 5 version of this would note that Makoto's sister is almost half a decade too young for me, under the "half your age + 7" rule - but Rise cares about being with the one she loves, and Eresh, as noted, has that counter to the "my body might be young, but the mind is way too old for you" argument. It's another part of why the coupling worked for the pair of them.)

The casual conversation as an absolutely brutal beatdown is going on is one of my favorite sorts of framing that only works in omake or other mediums that don't take themselves too seriously. The pauses are absolutely hilarious to imagine.

Me, too - and this was really fun to write.

I also really enjoy your descriptions of trust.

In honesty, I blame at least part of it on growing up with dogs, and spending a lot of time around other dogs and cats (and rabbits, thanks to my sister ). You really get a sense of that from dealing with them - they ask for so little, are so happy to get it, and can be so excited or relaxed, just because they're dealing with you . . . Hear an animal sigh because you're petting them, and feel their muscles relax under your hand, and the knowledge that all is right in their world is like nothing else.

There have been a few of them over the years, but they're always fuzzy and evocative, and uniquely tailored to the character. You do really satisfying work with emotional intimacy, and I could read those all day.

Again, thank you. I can't immediately put into words how much that means to me; and I'm not sure that taking a few days to ruminate on it would help, either.

[Kieran]

Continuing . . .



Kongo Town, Japan
June 6, 2104








Nelia would later admit it, if only to herself: she had been sulking.

“Deepen our ties with the human world,” my perfect posterior! With a randomly chosen stranger—how absurd can you get?

. . . And if it was that important, then why foist the same “bridegroom candidate” on me and LITHIA?!

After all, while hardly the best of friends, the two girls had nevertheless been close since childhood; even aside from being peers, and theoretically related (legally), they had a shared dislike of Humans and the Human World—if not quite the same approach to it. Still, while they were very different people, Nelia wasn’t overly inclined to compete with the Princess of the Gods just for the sake of it . . . But her father, for some unexplained (and undoubtedly asinine) reason, was outright refusing to budge on this; given how normally pliant to her will he was, this sudden inflexibility was infuriating—

And so, she’d gone to her room to fume, not deigning to do anything to hide her irritation, but managing to not quite slam the door behind her.

“Marry a Human,” she muttered venomously. “Because trying that worked out so well for Grandmother . . .”

Or Lithia’s great-aunt, ultimately, she allowed begrudgingly.

But the Princess of the Gods, while tragically widowed, had at least won; she had the memories of her husband and his love to console her—Grandmother hadn’t even had that. And still, that wretched Human had had the gall to have her heart for all of her life—even after he’d REJECTED her, never mind DIED . . .!

Nelia had absolutely no intentions of being put through the same experience—but it looked like Princess Carnelian was being given no choice.

Of course, since she was being forced to go through with it, Nelia immediately considered engaging in her usual tactics when dealing with Human boys. Seducing them was never much of a challenge, in her experience—and breaking this one’s heart would be even more satisfying than usual . . .

But, she realised almost immediately, this wouldn’t be “usual,” would it?

She had a reputation as an honour student and perfectionist—which wasn’t entirely untrue—but maintaining that reputation went a long way to diverting suspicion from her when the boys she involved in her “hobby” finally broke down. After all, she obviously wasn’t the sort of person to lead someone on—or any of the other things they accused her of. It was desperation and delusion on their parts, obviously . . . And while the King of the Devils was typically wrapped around her finger, what with his being the doting father and she the darling daughter that they were, having plausible deniability had gone a long way to keeping her from suffering repercussions, as well.

But in this case . . .

Father will undoubtedly be watching closely, trying to make sure this match goes in my favour; and even if he wasn’t, Lithia and her family will be, for much the same reasons. Hiding what I’m doing will be much harder—and so will talking my way out of getting into any trouble for it.

Nelia gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to grind them; if she didn’t, she expected that they’d be a fine powder by the end of it. She settled for plucking a pillow off her bed and throttling it, instead.

“What am I going to do . . ?” she muttered. “I can’t destroy whoever this Human is going to be, I’m not allowed to say ‘No’—and for Maou’s sake, they’re even sending me to the same SCHOOL as Grandmother!”

She stared at the antique mirror on her wall, with the sparkling blue gem set into its frame. It had been one of her grandmother’s favourite items, and she’d always been happy to have it; likewise, she’d been so proud, growing up, to find that she resembled her grandmother so closely—

But looking in the mirror now, Nelia could only see herself as her grandmother, as a young girl—but she had been unaware of the quiet, heartbroken wreck she would become, and Nelia had no such luxury.

“AHHHH—I DON’T WANT THAT TO BE ME . . .!”

With a scream, the princess hurled the pillow at the mirror with all her fury—and it was a testament to her rage that despite her slim frame, it struck the mirror with surprising strength, sending it hurtling to the ground along with the projectile, whereupon the glass shattered with explosive force.

The blue gem, however, did not. Instead, it began to glow—alongside a hum that, like the pulsating light, swiftly grew in both volume and intensity . . .

Nelia was no magical prodigy, but she knew that was bad. Likewise, while she would never be a legend in that regard, her title of Princess of the Devils did come alongside significant magical power, even if defence wasn’t her specialty.

As such, she had just enough time to throw up a shield before the world went white . . .








Koyo Town, Japan
June 13, 2004







That had been a week ago—if you could count that sort of thing when you found yourself thrown a century into the past . . .

Nelia had, luckily, been very well-versed in her grandmother’s history; it had allowed her to recognise where she’d ended up, if not how, when or why . . . Her best guess, at this point, was that whatever the artefact linked to the mirror had been meant to do, it used itself as an anchor point—thus, she’d wound up not far from Grandmother’s childhood home in the Human World, where the mirror currently resided (albeit in the parlour, rather than her bedroom).

The Devil Princess wasn’t sure what she’d been more shocked by: meeting her grandmother at her own age, or the nearly desperate request which had shortly followed: that Nelia pretend to be her . . .

Of necessity, Grandm—no, “Lycoris,” for this purpose (which was still easier than calling her “Nerine,” really)—had explained some of the reasoning. The fact that Nelia knew her family history told her what the (current) Devil Princess hadn’t, and she’d had to fake ignorance so as not to appear too familiar with what she was told. Fortunately, Nelia was rather good at faking things, even if she did say so herself.

For her own part, Nelia was grateful to be offered a place to stay in exchange for pretending to be her grandmother (and wasn’t that ironic?)—and even aside from the survival concerns, it gave her a grand opportunity . . .

If only she could decide what to do with it.

Nelia’s own instinct was to crush the arrogant Human; to seduce and (emotionally) destroy him like all the others whose hearts she’d broken. Indeed, if there was ever a Human whose heart she wanted to break, Rin Tsuchimi was the top of the list—no, he was the list. On the other hand, Grandmother’s ploy was to get close to him by pretending to be Lycoris; to fulfill the dreams of that long-dead girl. All Nelia had to do was pretend to be Nerine, in return, and her grandmother’s heart would never be broken—and while Nelia could likely be seen as cruel, from the Human perspective, but she wasn’t a monster.

Except . . .

Except that her grandmother had possessed a time-travelling device for at least as long as Nelia had been alive . . . And she’d never used it. Not to prevent Rin Tsuchimi from marrying Princess Lisanthius—not even to stop his dying. If there was any truth to the idea from Human stories that meddling with the past invariably ended badly, that was a fairly clear argument for it . . . Unless—was it possible that Grandmother hadn’t known . . .? Until it had actually gone off, after all, Nelia had thought the stone was just a pretty ornament in the mirror’s setting, and a nice shade of blue. If Grandmother had thought the same . . .

(And who mounted a time travel device in a mirror, anyway—shouldn’t it have been a pocket watch, or something else more relevant?)

Nelia didn’t know. She just didn’t have enough information to do more than guess—and this was a test that she could afford to fail.

And so, she’d followed dutifully along with the younger princess’ plan (and yes, that was the appropriate description; Nerine was supposed to be the “older twin,” after all—and if they were the same age, then Nelia was still older, because her birthday was in April, and Grandmother’s was in October). That brought them here, to the park, where her “sister” was going to sing on the swings, apparently.

Nelia had always loved her grandmother’s singing, and hearing it now was no exception. Going by the few snippets she’d caught so far, however, it was rather a different experience. Her voice was clearer, and stronger, but also rawer; the lack of advanced age had restored her lungpower but erased a lot of the polish and nuance that a lifetime of experience had granted. Still, it was unmistakably the voice that history had named the “Angel’s Bell,” and Nelia was no less entranced by it now than she’d been as a child—

Had someone called her name . . .?

Even as she dismissed that idea as ridiculous (and it was, given that she was with one of the only three people here who knew her name, and hadn’t recognised the “voice” as either of the other two), Nelia reflexively turned her head in response. As such, she was the first to spot their visitor.

“We have an audience, Nerine-chan,” she murmured—and how bizarre it felt, to call her grandmother that! But the girl had insisted, as part of her role if nothing else, so she’d adapt . . .

Nerine’s head turned only slightly, to follow hers—and if Nelia had possessed any doubts about who had managed to wander across them, the other Devil’s reaction dispelled them entirely.

“Rin-sama . . .” Nerine breathed.

That—that expression on her face right there. Nelia had never not known Grandmother to love Rin Tsuchimi, married and gone or not—but seeing her in love . . . If there was ever an argument to damn the risks of meddling with the past, the sight of her grandmother as a lovestruck teenage girl (which was really strange to see) had to top the list. As soon her eyes set upon him, she quivered like a puppy who was one word or gesture away from charging forward, barking its heart out—

And it was only when she saw Nerine’s hands, her fingers white from clenching the chain of the swing, that Nelia realised the Devil Princess was as terrified as she was eager . . .

Were you this timid without me here, Grandmother? Is that why you failed?

She opened her mouth to offer a word of reassurance—she couldn’t help it—when she came to a realisation: And he broke her heart regardless . . .

Nelia’s lips thinned at the thought, and she found herself less than eager to chain her grandmother to someone who could somehow be dense enough not to notice someone as devoted to him as Nerine was.

Before her train of thought could tie her into any further knots, however, it was derailed entirely by the sight of Rin Tsuchimi headed directly for them.

Nelia stared. She’d known that recording technologies weren’t that great prior to the Great Collapse—and Grandmother had mainly had photographs, anyways—but she’d still never realised he moved so gracefully. Watching him was like watching a stalking cat; purposeful and confident, with an innate assuredness that nothing would get in his way—a far cry from the “awkward but kind boy” her grandmother had always described.

How much of that impression was fondness colouring her recollections, though, compared to what he was actually like . . .? the yet-to-be Princess of the Devils wondered.

. . . And were his shoulders always that broad?

As he drew closer into view, Nelia noted more specific details—one of which stopped her cold.

Wow . . .

His clothes weren’t anything special in terms of either make or material (quite the contrary, in fact), but Neila knew a well-tailored outfit when she saw one. Handstitched, by the look of it (and familiar—specifically, as the “classic, traditional technique” of a certain Human fashion house in her time), and deliberately done with an eye towards concealment; and since he moved much too easily to be hiding an extra dozen kilos of flab—

I didn’t know Grandmother was into beefcake . . .

“I wondered if I might find you here . . .” he said softly. “It’s been a while, Nerine-sama.”

Nelia frowned inwardly. Based on his statement and the fact that his focus was entirely on the girl in the swing, he had no doubt whatsoever in whom he was addressing. Which meant that letting her pass as Nerine would become much more difficult unless Nerine introduced herself as Lycor—

“‘-Sama?’” Nerine blurted out in confusion, her eyes wide with surprise, and more than a trace of disappointment.

“Traditional greetings aside,” he said bluntly, “it has been a while—I didn’t want to presume . . .”

All right, that was more like what she’d been taught to expect.

“Still,” he said, once more in that soft tone, “I’m more pleased than I can say to see you looking so well . . .” He turned slightly. “And my apologies—I don’t believe we’ve been introduced . . .?”

Her grandmother’s teenaged self was presently staring at her feet, with the brief glimpse Nelia had caught of her face showing it to be a very bright red. Lacking any other guidance, then—and having had it more or less confirmed that he knew she wasn’t Nerine, along with knowing that she couldn’t sing well enough to pass as Lycoris—the other Devil Princess had to rely on her own instincts.

In other words, she pasted on her brightest and most charming smile, and went to work.

“I’m her cousin, Carnelian,” she said pleasantly. “Though I find that it’s a terribly long name; feel free to just call me ‘Nelia’ . . .”

Nerine shot her a betrayed look that Nelia fought not to wince at; as it was, she tried her best to convey with her eyes that the plan obviously wasn’t going to work, so she had to improvise something . . .

Aloud, however, she merely concluded with, “And you would be Rin Tsuchimi, yes?”

“That is the general agreement,” he said in an unexpectedly dry tone, before tilting his head inquisitively. “Related on her mother’s side, I’m guessing? Only because I can’t see Sia or Kikyou not mentioning that they have three cousins who look like Nerine-sama . . .”

Both girls gave a start at that, but for different reasons—Nerine flinched at the second use of the honorific, but Nelia was dealing with the bottom dropping out of her world, on par with the first realisation that she was a century in the past.

“Kikyou”—the Devil princess of the World of the Gods was HERE? HOW? Her appearance in public had caused all manner of news articles to appear at the time, detailing her history—and while Nelia couldn’t recall the precise date at the moment, she was sure that the Devil amongst the World of the Gods’ royal family wasn’t due to show up until some time next year . . .!

“. . . Ah,” she said after a moment, trying to cover her lapse. “Yes, that’s right.”

He nodded. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Nelia-sama.”

“Oh, ‘Nelia-chan’ is fine, Rin-sama,” she said quickly, trying not to focus on her confusion over the timeline (or the fact that, at a normal speaking volume, the timbre of his voice was quite pleasant). “And I’m sure Nerine-chan would prefer it if you addressed her that way—”

“Yes!” Nerine interjected emphatically, before abruptly reddening again—her hands were halfway to her mouth before she caught herself.

Tsuchimi smiled in a way that Nelia recognised from her reflection, as though he was trying to restrain laughter. Still, he was back to the gentler tone when he spoke to her.

“All right, Nerine-chan. If that’s you want, then of course I will.”

. . . This was the man who’d rejected her grandmother? Either he was an even bigger natural playboy than history had ever implied (which was saying something!), or—

He shifted in place, sending the shopping bag looped around his wrist swinging—and seemingly calling it to his attention.

“I should get home before I get so caught up in talking to you that the milk spoils,” he said regretfully. “If you girls don’t have other plans, you’re welcome to come with me—Kaede ought to be home by now, as well, and I’m sure she’d love to catch up with you . . . And meet you, as well, Nelia-chan.”

Oh, he was good—he was very good. He managed to make meeting with someone history regarded as the Human rival to the princesses (and a model of femininity and devotion in her own right) sound appealing . . . No wonder he charmed Grandmother so easily, and all of the others. And yet, Nelia thought with a frown, most in-depth biographies—not to mention Grandmother’s stories about him—conveyed almost the total opposite . . .

Tsuchimi having a different personality (and more muscles) than I expected, his mentioning the “Divine Devil Princess” so casually—exactly what is going on here? This is the past . . .

. . . Isn’t it?








Avalon Castle, Phantasmagoria Island (Grail Works. Ltd. Headquarters)
Beyond the boundaries of time and space








“You have thirty seconds,” Primula said into her phone (in the sort of calm, controlled voice which announced that she was actually anything but) “to explain to me how and why the Crown Princess of the World of the Devils is in the past—and the WRONG past, at that . . .!”

[Xamusel]

LOL!! XD Thanks for the read, Kieran, I'm sure we all appreciate what you're doing here.

[Arbitrarity]

Of course, since she was being forced to go through with it, Nelia immediately considered engaging in her usual tactics when dealing with Human boys. Seducing them was never much of a challenge, in her experience—and breaking this one’s heart would be even more satisfying than usual . . .

Raitou might have had a bad time. Interesting to see some more solidified canon from Carnelian's perspective, but that quickly goes a bit off the rails.

(And who mounted a time travel device in a mirror, anyway—shouldn’t it have been a pocket watch, or something else more relevant?)

Tick! Tack!

Nelia stared. She’d known that recording technologies weren’t that great prior to the Great Collapse—and Grandmother had mainly had photographs, anyways—but she’d still never realised he moved so gracefully. Watching him was like watching a stalking cat; purposeful and confident, with an innate assuredness that nothing would get in his way—a far cry from the “awkward but kind boy” her grandmother had always described.

How much of that impression was fondness colouring her recollections, though, compared to what he was actually like . . .? the yet-to-be Princess of the Devils wondered.

. . . And were his shoulders always that broad?

And our first hint that something might be... off.

“‘-Sama?’” Nerine blurted out in confusion, her eyes wide with surprise, and more than a trace of disappointment.

“Traditional greetings aside,” he said bluntly, “it has been a while—I didn’t want to presume . . .”

It seems quite funny to me that Nerine refers to him as Rin-sama, but doesn't like being addressed that way in return. An intimacy/formality thing, and a really nice nuance for this interaction.

. . . This was the man who’d rejected her grandmother? Either he was an even bigger natural playboy than history had ever implied (which was saying something!), or—
...
Oh, he was good—he was very good. He managed to make meeting with someone history regarded as the Human rival to the princesses (and a model of femininity and devotion in her own right) sound appealing . . . No wonder he charmed Grandmother so easily, and all of the others. And yet, Nelia thought with a frown, most in-depth biographies—not to mention Grandmother’s stories about him—conveyed almost the total opposite . . .

I have to love the level of cynicism here, because it perfectly compliments how over-the-top Rin can (unintentionally) be when he's showing off (/using Charisma Excellency)

“You have thirty seconds,” Primula said into her phone (in the sort of calm, controlled voice which announced that she was actually anything but) “to explain to me how and why the Crown Princess of the World of the Devils is in the past—and the WRONG past, at that . . .!”

I recall you mentioning that Primula has access to or knowledge of a number of different timelines, similar to the Kaleidoscope, so I guess it's futile to ask if this is the Carnelian from "her" timeline, though it sure sounds like that's not the case.

Fun chapter overall. Carnelian's completely different sort of future knowledge has some fun potential to further complicate the timeline, and I greatly enjoy her righteous anger at Rin.

[Kieran]

LOL!! XD Thanks for the read, Kieran, I'm sure we all appreciate what you're doing here.

And thank you for the compliment.

Raitou might have had a bad time.

Even in Episode 2 canon, that apparently was her plan . . .

Interesting to see some more solidified canon from Carnelian's perspective, but that quickly goes a bit off the rails.

I'm fudging here, I admit; there are no translations or detailed descriptions of Nelia or her game's plot; and the recently announced sequel/sidestory, Princess x Princess, follows Lithia's route - seriously, why does the Devil Princess always get shafted in canon . . .?

In any case, lacking an official translation, or even a full playthrough (there's a "trial version" online, but . . .), much less the ability to understand raw Japanese, I'm having to guess at exactly how Carnelian thinks and reacts. Her speaking voice, like Nerine's is soft: a bit breathier, though and lacking the bit of twang to it that Nerine's had. She smiles a lot, and seems cheerful - but everything written about her says it's an act, and the disparity is noted even in the few reviews of the game I've found - that if you don't play Nelia's route, what the game says about her versus how she appears in the "common route" stuff does not line up.

From all that, I have to assume she's reasonably intelligent (honour student, for example) - especially if she's able to play the temptress regularly. Never mind the fact that she's a public figure (and you'd have to think that a young, pretty princess would garner a LOT of media attention), but the rumours that would crop up about a serial heartbreaker, especially one that makes "pets" of human boys . . .?

*Shakes head* If she's pulling that off, and maintaining a spotless reputation, Carnelian has to be clever, analytical, and careful.

Tick! Tack!

Yup - almost exactly the same way, too . . .

And our first hint that something might be... off.

*Nods* But only hints - after all, photographs wouldn't detail how someone moves, and depending on the angle, he might be more broad-shouldered than he looks in one.

It seems quite funny to me that Nerine refers to him as Rin-sama, but doesn't like being addressed that way in return. An intimacy/formality thing, and a really nice nuance for this interaction.

In the original Shuffle!, the princesses wave off being addressed formally by the class (and of course Rin); I assume it's because they get all that stuff at home - but given Nerine's inherent formality in addressing Rin, that is my way of thinking. She refers to him as "Rin-sama" out of respect, and values the closeness that being referred to as "Nerine-chan" implies . . .

Which makes sense, actually. At this point, only her parents, aunt, uncle and cousin would call her that - the closest and most important people in her life. Rin should be counted among those, right . . .?

I have to love the level of cynicism here, because it perfectly compliments how over-the-top Rin can (unintentionally) be when he's showing off (/using Charisma Excellency)

She's a self-taught manipulator - would you expect her to react differently . . .?

I recall you mentioning that Primula has access to or knowledge of a number of different timelines, similar to the Kaleidoscope, so I guess it's futile to ask if this is the Carnelian from "her" timeline, though it sure sounds like that's not the case.

Indeed - because if (and this is a BIG "if") I am interpreting the hints I've come across correctly, it's entirely possible that Carnelian wouldn't exist at all in Primula's "main" timeline . . .

Fun chapter overall. Carnelian's completely different sort of future knowledge has some fun potential to further complicate the timeline, and I greatly enjoy her righteous anger at Rin.

I think I've now hit every potenial harem cliche: with Sion, I have the "totally uninterested" heroine, and now with Nelia, the "actively hostile" heroine.

[Xamusel]

Hey, Kieran, I have a question for you... do you have the 13th Age rules on hand? I ask because I'm trying to assign classes to the party of Rin, Sakura, Arturia, and Medusa (plus my SI, but who's counting him?) and I don't have a clear understanding of what classes to assign them all. I mean, the group has a cleric (I decided on Rin being the cleric for some reason or other), but no idea what else.

[Kieran]

Hey, Kieran, I have a question for you... do you have the 13th Age rules on hand? I ask because I'm trying to assign classes to the party of Rin, Sakura, Arturia, and Medusa (plus my SI, but who's counting him?) and I don't have a clear understanding of what classes to assign them all. I mean, the group has a cleric (I decided on Rin being the cleric for some reason or other), but no idea what else.

I don't, as it happens - and while I can get them, I'm seeing at least three different companies who use that title - so you'll have to tell me which publisher and edition I'm looking for, I'm afraid.

[Xamusel]

I'm thinking specifically the Pelgrane Press rules... unless they managed to contract out some of the work to those other companies you see. I don't know that for a fact.

EDIT: I looked it up on the net. Pelgrane Press is the company that made the rule set, and they're the ones to look for, regarding the core rules and the 13 True Ways expansion book.

[Kieran]

I'm thinking specifically the Pelgrane Press rules... unless they managed to contract out some of the work to those other companies you see. I don't know that for a fact.

EDIT: I looked it up on the net. Pelgrane Press is the company that made the rule set, and they're the ones to look for, regarding the core rules and the 13 True Ways expansion book.

. . . OK - now, with the caveat that I really don't want to spend $45 in American money if I don't have to, just to understand what you're talking about, I'm going just be going off of what I'm seeing in the table of contents of each book:

(And incidentally, if the only reason Rin's a cleric is because you need a healer, you've chosen poorly; she's generally a high Intelligence, low-to-medium Wisdom build.)


* Arturia would likely work best as a Fighter, but Commander, Paladin, or even Monk, if there's a sword-related style, would work well enough.

* Rider would probably work best as a Druid, under the "Shifter" or "Animal Companion" archetypes; aim for snake themes in the former, and magical mounts in the latter. Otherwise, a Rogue or Monk with high Dex, along the lines of "dancing assassin" as a concept . . .

Or these two videos may help - different rule system, but it might spark something for you . . .

* Sakura can take a number of paths - Necromancer, if you're focusing on her Matou magecraft, for example. Just add shadows and vermin/bugs as themes. Depending on the pantheon involved, she could be a cleric, herself; or a Wizard with a focus on Necromancy and/or Conjuration (the Matou did build the Servant Class system, after all; and she tends to surround herself with minions when she goes Dark).

* Rin could be a druid, if you equate the "Elemental Caster" idea with her being an Average One (and being from a "primitive backwater" like Japan), but the arcane side of magic is usually her best; like I said, she's a high-Intelligence build. Specialty is likely evocation, since most of what we see her use in-series goes boom . . . And if you really want to aim for accuracy, all her spells have high-cost material components.


. . . I assume you're not actually changing their abilities - this is just a shorthand for you, for reference? Because I tried that, and the response was not positive (which was fair enough, admittedly) . . .

[Kieran]

Hours later








The sigh that went through Ereshkigal had a different tone to her other, most recent ones: it was more wistful. Not that Frid was at all unfamiliar with those; in terms of sighs, it ranked just above her exasperated ones in terms of frequency—and then, only because Ishtar wasn’t always around when he was in the same room.

“. . . Can’t talk yourself into putting off going home any longer, huh?” he murmured into her ear.

It was an unbreakable rule of the multiverse that a blushing Ereshkigal was cute, and this time was no exception. Indeed, if possible, she was even more so than normal, because Rise Kujikawa skewed more heavily towards the “cute” side of attractiveness than Rin Tohsaka. Understandable, as she was a professional idol, and a little younger than Rin, but adorable to see, nonetheless.

“Not as she’s finally, truly exhausted,” she replied tiredly, seemingly without thinking, before stiffening in sudden realisation. “. . . I should not be so easy for mortals to read—any mortal,” she grumbled, turning away from him. “It’s beneath my dignity as a goddess.”

“What faith could you have in the worship of someone who doesn’t even try to know and understand you?” he countered. “Rise’s own experiences should show you something of that phenomenon—and you deserve better.”

“Hmph,” Ereshkigal grunted, though the flush of colour along the nape of her neck indicated that she wasn’t at all displeased by the argument . . .
The Queen of the Underworld stirred suddenly, stretching as she did so, before rolling onto her side in order to face him directly; in that moment, Frid wished like hell that he could draw, or somehow commission Da Vinci, Hokusai—somebody. Because “Ereshkigal in Langour” was a truly breathtaking sight.

“If you keep looking at me like that,” she warned, “I’ll either stay, or take you with me.”

Now it was Frid’s turn to sigh, in exactly the same tone Ereshkigal had used earlier—because it was a warning. She was compatible with Rin Tohsaka on more than the level of “because she’s Ishtar’s reflection,” after all; in her way, she could be just as greedy as the Tohsaka heiress, or her sister, for that matter. She was absolutely loath to let go of anything she truly wanted . . .

But being “the Red Angel of the Underworld” that Ereshkigal was, the idea of depriving him of the joys of life early—especially given the general conditions of Kur—genuinely pained her. And so, she tried, very hard, to let him have his space and live his life. The understanding between them was that he would be hers, completely, when he died, and she resigned herself to patience (which was, in the end, nothing new to her), while enjoying what fleeting memories, like these, that they could contrive to steal for themselves.

But Ereshkigal was reliable, not infallible, and not immune to temptation, either—both Ishtar’s better and worse half, in her way. Cross too many lines, and what would it matter, then, if she crossed them all . . .?

“All right, then, I’ll stop,” he said, sighing again. “But not because I want to . . .”

Yup, it was official: “Blushing Ereshkigal” was unquestionably the best Ereshkigal—

“STOP THAT!” she ordered. “It’s not helping . . .!”

“Sorry,” he said, at least half genuinely. “. . . Speaking of help, did you want more wool or fur to take back with you before you go? Or—”

Even showing signs of weariness, she moved at Servant speeds—though at this distance, it almost wouldn’t matter. His body was seized by bands of flesh with a strength surpassing mountain stone; his mouth, sealed by a portal to death itself, sucking the life-giving air from his lungs—and it would be more thrilling if she wasn’t gripping him tight enough to cause actual pain, nor causing blackness to creep around the edges of his vision . . .

Finally, as his heart threatened to burst from his chest, Frid was released with a gasp, though the clinging vise didn’t relax in the slightest.

“Stop,” she breathed into his ear, voice tight and dangerous. “Please, as you love me, stop talking—this host is younger, less disciplined, and I love you, and I want you, and so does she, and I don’t think I can MAKE myself STOP—!”

She was trembling, mortal heart racing despite the efforts she, both Ereshkigal and Rise Kujikawa, had already put in today—

Which, Frid abruptly realised, was part of the problem—today had pushed both girls to their limits, physically, mentally, and emotionally. They were wrung out, their self-control in tatters, and that was even before taking into account the fact that Rise was as open with her feelings as Eresh was repressed. And younger than Rin, as the goddess had noted, meaning somewhat less mature and without the mental discipline that was part and parcel of a magus’ training. Even if Rin was hardly as close to being the ideal magus as she pretended, it was still another layer of the filter she represented on Ereshkigal’s normal personality. Ishtar’s, too.

To be fair, Rise had a level of professional discipline, too; but it was as a performer—which was not nearly close enough to being the same thing, and quite possibly a detriment, in this case. After all, even if she was trained to mask her real feelings, she was also trained to express herself . . .

She’d told Frid not to talk, and she wasn’t in a mood to forgive if he disobeyed. Even if she did, she wouldn’t forget it, any more than Ishtar or Rin would—so he didn’t. Instead, he stroked her hair (inwardly thanking his shapeshifting capabilities for allowing the extreme flexibility needed to do so in his present position), in that universal soothing manner of primates, parents and pet-owners—and he breathed. Slow, deep breaths, not quite enough to suggest sleep, but rhythmic; something for her own internal rhythms to focus on, synch to. Something to calm the host, if not the goddess; but hopefully enough to let the goddess take a step back and regain control of herself. Slow, quiet breaths, and the sound of fingers running through unbound, golden waves . . .

And after a while, a full-body shudder ran through Ereshkigal—like her sigh, similar and oh-so-different to her earlier ones—and her near-literal death grip relaxed.

“. . . You,” she said raggedly, “are far too good at tempting me—no,” she added immediately, “No flippant remarks, well-meant teasing, or gentle flattery—my heart won’t take it right now.”

“. . . All right,” Frid said carefully. “Am I allowed to know what I said, or did, that set you off like that . . .?”

“. . . You were too kind, as always,” she said quietly. “You were about to offer leather, weren’t you?”

Frid grimaced. The primary benefit of being able to shapeshift as he did meant that providing Ereshkigal with wool or furs for the souls of Kur wasn’t actually that hard, so long as someone was willing to do the shearing. Growing it back was a near-instant process, so doing so in significant quantities was possible, as long as his Essence Pool held out. Turning it into actual cloth was beyond him, but Ilya’s alchemy skills and Shirou’s Gradation Air tricks could manage that—and to her credit, Ereshkigal wasn’t above putting in the work to spin, sew or weave it herself. . .

And with as many Stamina-related Charms under his belt as he had, Frid could ultimately provide leather the same way; so long as someone was willing to flay him alive for the hide, anyway. It was in no way pleasant, and no one involved enjoyed it (even if it reinforced Ereshkigal’s reputation as an “evil goddess”)—but he could do it, and if it did help—

“With only the slightest hesitation,” she murmured, “because you hate it—but you were about to offer, regardless. To help those in my care—to help me . . . And you wonder why I love you.”

“Now and again, yes,” Frid admitted. “I’ve been given a lot of power to play with, my Queen—mostly by luck—but neither body, mind nor soul are anything especially outstanding. Quite the opposite, in more than a few senses.”

“As many self-aware mortals would say,” she countered. “And more than a few would say about me . . .”

“Yourself included, periodically—and unfairly so,” Frid chided her gently.

“Hypocrite,” she shot back, with force, but no real venom.

“Maybe, but I somehow got you away from Ritsuka Fujimaru—can you blame me for being puzzled. . .?”

Ereshkigal made a choking sound, briefly, her face going bright red, before she finally sighed.

“. . . I suspect we’ll be at this for centuries, given the chance,” she conceded. “And my transition will be much easier on the girl if she isn’t awake, so again, I’d best go now.” Reluctantly but effortlessly, she rose to a sitting position, then to her feet, leaving sheets reaching for her briefly before succumbing to gravity’s hold.

“I plan to leave through Izanami’s demi-plane,” she told him. “Borders are more fluid there—but you may need to guide the girl back home . . .”

“I imagine it’ll be easier to transport things with you, too,” Frid noted. “I never did get an answer about the wool . . .?”

Ereshkigal stared, then sighed. “I can’t say I don’t want it, or couldn’t use it . . . But are you certain your strength can hold? I’m feeling more than a little worn out, and Exalted or not, you’re still mortal . . .”

“I’ve got some Essence back, at least,” he said. “Not quite a full tank, but most of what we were doing was a matter of effort and determination more than supernatural power . . . And honestly, it hasn’t been nearly as much effort as it used to be to get results as far as that sort of thing goes, lately.”

After all, Essence Pools could sort of be measured out; Frid knew how many motes a particular Charm took to activate, and could get a reasonable idea of how much of his total energy it took to do so—but Willpower, as the Exalted system measured it, was a bit more nebulous. . .

“Ah.” Ereshkigal’s cheeks coloured. “That . . . Might be my fault. Kind of. Indirectly. Maybe.”

Frid blinked, noting her resemblance to a flustered Rin—which was kind of weird to see on Rise. “How so?”

“Well, everyone was curious—and why wouldn’t they be?” she started to babble, her speech speeding up with every sentence. “After seven millennia, I finally have an actual supply of wool, fur, hides . . .! So of course, they asked me where it came from, and I might not need the praise, but there was no harm in giving you your due in this—and I told them exactly how you gave them to me, and . . . Imighthaveaccidentallystartedacult.”

Rather than ask her to repeat herself (mostly because she looked like she’d explode, one way or another, before doing so), Frid channeled a little Essence to try and parse what she’d said better.

“You started a cult, in KUR, in MY name . . .?”

“Not on PURPOSE . . .!”








Writer's Notes: Turns out there was a little more left in my proverbial tank; now it's (probably) done . . . And yes, I did write this whole thing just for the cult joke . . .

[Arbitrarity]

More cute Ereshkigal, yaaay.

I really like the parallel drawn to idol culture re: worship, it's quite clever. Also still love the descriptions of physical touch.

For some reason my colloquial understanding of the word "flaying" involves whips, and then I had an entire moment of wondering how you actually get a coherent piece of hide that way. I then realized it must be a much more careful process, what I think of as skinning. Which in the context of hearing about "flaying people alive" seems much worse. Whips are one thing, but knife-play is a bit kinkier than normal

I suppose the lack of ritual offerings and sacrifices to Ereshkigal has left Kur relatively destitute. There is something a bit silly about worshipping Godafrid improving his ability to offer you wool/fur/hide in future. Gods Need Prayer Badly occasionally feels very transactional, and at this scale, moreso.

[Kieran]

More cute Ereshkigal, yaaay.

"More cute Ereshkigal" is always a good reason to do something, I agree.

That, and it's interesting to explore just how their dynamic works: they're both "gloomy" people, and disinclined to believe that someone could like them for who they are, after all . . . And Ereshkigal is a goddess; while not as vain as Ishtar, she's still aware of that fact, and not inclined to put up with too much nonsense from any mortal, even one she likes . . .

Also, while this particular incident will prove to Eresh that he doesn't just like her because she looks like Rin, it also illustrates how important compatibility with her host actually is - she came within a heartbeat of killing him and locking him in one of her soul-cages after all, despite her best intentions. Not because of any malice on her part, but just because it's her natural inclination, and Rise wasn't disposed to restraining herself from following her passions.


. . . Honestly, as with several other Servants, I would love to bring her into the Works if I could believably justify how; but the best excuse I have thus far would require her to possess the Rin of the Fate/EXTRA universe (since we don't want to sacrifice ours on a permanent basis, of course) - and that's awfully complicated to arrange . . .

Frankly, Ishtar would be easier to arrange, given Fate/strange fake, but again, "easier" does not mean EASY . . .

I really like the parallel drawn to idol culture re: worship, it's quite clever.

And to my mind, accurate.

Also still love the descriptions of physical touch.

Thank you.

For some reason my colloquial understanding of the word "flaying" involves whips, and then I had an entire moment of wondering how you actually get a coherent piece of hide that way. I then realized it must be a much more careful process, what I think of as skinning. Which in the context of hearing about "flaying people alive" seems much worse. Whips are one thing, but knife-play is a bit kinkier than normal

No arguments here - and I can see where you're coming from. I half-chose that description because it sounds worse (and half-chose it because I think of the "Flay" weapon artefact in Blood Omen: Legacy of Kain when I think of "skinning people alive"). Sorry for any confusion, though.

I suppose the lack of ritual offerings and sacrifices to Ereshkigal has left Kur relatively destitute.

Actually, as I understand it in reading up on her, it's Kur's natural condition, which is the reason she's done half the things she has - she beat the daylights out of Nergal (as opposed to the other way around, followed by marrying him, as in our mythology) and forced him to surrender half his divine portfolio, because she wanted power over the Sun so she could improve conditions - and got his power over disease, instead. Same thing with Dumuzid (Ishtar's husband): she wanted his power over sheep, to clothe and warm the souls of Kur, and got his ability to transform into serpents and antelope (which is why they're pictured with her so often).

. . . Basically, our poor girl has had no luck at all - very Rin-like, in a lot of ways, but not fun. Which is why she was so delighted to finally have a plan go RIGHT.

There is something a bit silly about worshipping Godafrid improving his ability to offer you wool/fur/hide in future. Gods Need Prayer Badly occasionally feels very transactional, and at this scale, moreso.

Not quite the meaning here - in Exalted's Third Edition rules, the benefits of a cult allow you to spend Willpower points (up to the cult's rating) without actually losing those points. It's a (relatively) minor thing, and as Frid notes, difficult to notice, given how nebulous Willpower is . . .

[Arbitrarity]

Also, while this particular incident will prove to Eresh that he doesn't just like her because she looks like Rin, it also illustrates how important compatibility with her host actually is - she came within a heartbeat of killing him and locking him in one of her soul-cages after all, despite her best intentions. Not because of any malice on her part, but just because it's her natural inclination, and Rise wasn't disposed to restraining herself from following her passions.

I wasn't entirely sure if that was a description of a very aggressive kiss or actually trying to suck out Godafrid's life. The latter seemed more likely, but given how naturally cold Ereshkigal has been depicted, I wasn't entirely sure.

No arguments here - and I can see where you're coming from. I half-chose that description because it sounds worse (and half-chose it because I think of the "Flay" weapon artefact in Blood Omen: Legacy of Kain when I think of "skinning people alive"). Sorry for any confusion, though.

Just my misunderstanding, one of those things that comes from never specifically looking up the word.

Actually, as I understand it in reading up on her, it's Kur's natural condition, which is the reason she's done half the things she has - she beat the daylights out of Nergal (as opposed to the other way around, followed by marrying him, as in our mythology) and forced him to surrender half his divine portfolio, because she wanted power over the Sun so she could improve conditions - and got his power over disease, instead. Same thing with Dumuzid (Ishtar's husband): she wanted his power over sheep, to clothe and warm the souls of Kur, and got his ability to transform into serpents and antelope (which is why they're pictured with her so often).

I think I was misreading "After seven millennia" to mean "for the first time in 7000 years" rather than "for the first time since I got the job". My understanding is that you could make offerings to specific dead people, and they would be received, but generally, Ereshkigal gets the short end of the stick, yes.

Not quite the meaning here - in Exalted's Third Edition rules, the benefits of a cult allow you to spend Willpower points (up to the cult's rating) without actually losing those points. It's a (relatively) minor thing, and as Frid notes, difficult to notice, given how nebulous Willpower is . . .

Ah, I was close. It seemed clear enough that he was empowered in some fashion by the cult (while not exactly the same, my mental reference is stuff like how the Incarnae get massive amounts of mote/willpower regeneration from their share of prayer). I suppose since he gets specifically Willpower, rather than motes, so the thing that is easier is the "effort and determination" part, not the "supernatural power", so they aren't actually making it easier for him to shapeshift frequently and donate body parts. Sorry, the subject of

And honestly, it hasn’t been nearly as much effort as it used to be to get results as far as that sort of thing goes, lately.

wasn't fully clear to me.

[Kieran]

I wasn't entirely sure if that was a description of a very aggressive kiss or actually trying to suck out Godafrid's life. The latter seemed more likely, but given how naturally cold Ereshkigal has been depicted, I wasn't entirely sure.

Of course. If I'd been using HER point of view, I could've been clearer. In essence, Ereshkigal found the gesture exceptionally romantic - I mean, her sister's husband celebrated when Ishtar was trapped in the Underworld, and her boyfriend is volunteering to be tortured, and chance being trapped there himself (because Charms or not, there is a risk in whether or not he'll survive being skinned long enough to use them), just to help her out . . .

(And she will be holding this over Ishtar forever . . . )

It was meant to be just a kiss; a deep one, maybe, but just a kiss. But the deeper she went - the more she thought and felt about it - the more she wanted. And as previously noted, Ereshkigal's instinct is to keep those she cares for close to her, safe in her soul cages - and Rise's is to follow her passions . . . People often talk about dating a goddess, but very few consider the risks involved.

Just my misunderstanding, one of those things that comes from never specifically looking up the word.

That catches me occasionally, too - often because I've read a word in a particular context, but never actually heard it used.

I think I was misreading "After seven millennia" to mean "for the first time in 7000 years" rather than "for the first time since I got the job". My understanding is that you could make offerings to specific dead people, and they would be received,

I'm largely going off Kur as described by F/GO for this, though I do believe you're right (also, I recall reading that those who burned to death were considered utterly destroyed, which makes Eresh's volcanic Noble Phantasm take on a whole new light . . . )

but generally, Ereshkigal gets the short end of the stick, yes.

Much the same way that Rin does, with her plans.

Ah, I was close. It seemed clear enough that he was empowered in some fashion by the cult (while not exactly the same, my mental reference is stuff like how the Incarnae get massive amounts of mote/willpower regeneration from their share of prayer). I suppose since he gets specifically Willpower, rather than motes, so the thing that is easier is the "effort and determination" part, not the "supernatural power", so they aren't actually making it easier for him to shapeshift frequently and donate body parts.

No - but he can apply Willpower to the Stamina + Resistance rolls needed to not lose consciousness, and the like, which will help.

Sorry, the subject of wasn't fully clear to me.

And that was my fault, and I do apologise - in my defence, it really is hard to articulate that kind of phenomenon in a "non-gamer" context.