Every floor of the open plan tower of shops and housing is covered in religious marks. Detities of the mage's were mostly of the elements themselves. Food made here is a direct elemental referance. There was room for other worshipping gods and religions. It is the fasting period for the other local non-mages in their releigious practice. There is a sand corridor of statues and candles. There was tribute art thrown any spot possible. The dull white modren place was no where in sight. Eliza worked hard like others, throwing up her own chalk art of the forgotten and hidden gods. She was clever to put it in the lease populated or around corners where it doesn't clash the main halls. She left plenty of interesting leaflets that explained her chalk art and the history of those hidden gods. Oddly enough, Omen's was having Mat doing this same thing. Bringing those almost lost to time forwards into public idea. Mat would often stubble at just missing Eliza, arriving to a location with chalk and leaflet stand. She was just out of reach for him to even thank her. But he hadn't the time for that. As there was always the next parts of Omen's plans to be done. Always was there strange actions like scaring a bird just in time to people having a conversation nearby. Sometimes he was told to turn a light off or on at random times. Little things that were pointless maybe but these impacted situations across the tower. He constantly clashed into the royal mages or had a hand in something around them. He saved the future king thrice. Defiantly earning some sort of protector or trusted title.
She stands in watching those that are tolerant to share faith holidays. Hovering just out of reach, in stare of someone washing away her 3rd chalk art. She circled around in making sure that the 1st and 2nd one's needing any touch ups when these party poopers were erasing her art. It wasn't long that confused by standers weren't sure of stopping the party poopers or if they were taking down a disrespected art work. Eliza has erased some rude tags already and her chalk is always meant to be washed after the festivities ended. No event is without its displeased minorities.
Even those who hated holidays being loud celebrations, which fair enough if holidays were everyday. The festival of mage gods in one week long, and it doesn't actually kick full swing until Thursday. Monday to Wednesday are traditions that are private quiet affairs, individual as a person's prayer to whomever they worship. Throwing up art in admiration to the gods is accepted and quiet prayer.
If your going to put public art up, you make sure it public approved. But this is where public approval has controversy, as some gods are known to be against other. Of course, humans amplify and repeat this war among them. Not all events during this period are for public sight. There is plenty of rituals behind closed doors, but all this is to help flow magic. It's this holiday that has a magnetic affect to bring energy of magic from other realms into the living realm. It a week long and no more. Once a year. Sheesh, people can be so inconsiderate or intolerant to diversity. At least I am not like those weird people painting lamb blood on doors to their house.
"How dare you!" a preist, his dressed in royal blues. His likely a water god follower, "You lads have no respect!" the prankster stand frozen as this was the frist time someone has appraoched in telling them off, "Do you even know what that art is?" the preist lowered in taking one her leaflets from the floor, "Don't you remeber this story told you?" the kids looked between them confused, "I hope you find a way to appraise the god you have angered." they looked to the wall they been washing and the spray cans they were about to use to layer something on top of it, "The lord of the ocean's abyss, a tale of caution to such children like you. We once threatened those that upset the gods of water by saying you be thrown into the trench. That trench is a real place. And that monster you erased from the wall is a god eater that protects that trench. Given it is a god eater, it too is a god that is worshiped. But it worshiped in fear, not celebration." they looked at that wall perplexed, "Whomever our mysterious artist is. They most certainly did so in theme. Every floor level has such a guardian chalked, its story in a information leaflet and given reminder of why we pray to the gods we love and not in fear. I would even respect such a person for such smart way of keep the rest of educated and faithful. They have yet to draw on that top floor. Maybe instead of erasing that art, you take the time to educate yourself in what earning love of the gods means." The pranksters collected their supplies and sulk away to some other place. They will still likely throw some of their own art but in not a public view.
She leaned having seen and hear the water presit's good deed. Watched the preist give a prayer to the space in hoping to appease the god eater. He like others moved on, back to more important mundane tasks. She wasn't really planning every floor. Just the floor numbers that mattered. The top floor isn't one them. But the basement car park... she had a most wonderful idea to draw. It was plenty of space too. She knew the embodiment of universal concepts well enough to make just the perfect art. She seen it before, and been there herself. That seat in the debate chamber of concept gods. This was the week and festival to throw such a thing up. These side projects were just in practice for that final masterpiece. These god eater arts were chances to see material chalk reactions to living realm alterations. Given she is using chalk sourced in other realms, some pieces from the domains these concept proved for as home. She worried about time chalk and the death chalk. The water, flame and earth one was simple enough. The air one was easy, she has to use it wrong but it works.
"You!" her callor is snatched and she dangled up like a dirty cat in dust, "You are attracted your creatures here!" Omen's vessel is still very mad at her, "You're not even a living human." poked harshly at her.
"oi!" She had to lock him, "I was practicing. They aren't coming here." He lifted her right up to be equal gaze, "Seriously? Like I would summon them here. More like they escape to find me and try to eat me again." he frowned and lowers her and then he was processing what she said and could let her free, "Will you let me go?" She smacked his wrist in popping the puppet joint. His limb weakened enough to drop her, "Stop blaming me for being a victim. You do know what happened to me and here you are hissing. Maybe just get on with you day job, Omens." he went to hiss and follow after her. But she takes a shadow and lost him. He can't follow into the shadows as a god. No divine of purity can see or be a part of the darkness. His not the concept of space or darkness.
"Everything alright there?" another vessel of some other god caught up, "Omens?" Omens sighed in aggravation and turned to other events to be concerned for. Nurturing his follower should be his concern. He knew where to find the young lad, lighting candles on a strange floor level. He didn't tell his follower about the chalk drawings or about the creatures but already the kid was ahead of being leery. Aware of the creatures hidden but in plain sight. The broken sigil panel prompts has been of great use, working for the kids interests. Broken because it shouldnt be visible among humans in the mortal realms. Although even Omens has to give credit to the mages finding a place eclipsed so close to divine refuge. One of several towers across the world with abnormal magical forces acting within. This British tower is in touch of dead spirit realms; afterlife gates to undertaker realms and the bypass to the mage islands. The American branch is in touch with distortion realms; time seems to act strange and is the brace for the other towers to be protected from time reverting. It's why the distortion within the towers have no corelation to leaving it. If Eliza left this tower, she be the human girl that entered this tower. Mat... he be back to the undertaker he was. This time is borrowed in this place of distortion, and Omen's is making the most of it.
"I will just have to wing it." She holds a chalk that she hadn't tested yet, and she was the most afraid of this one, "I will just have to draw them last." she pockets the chalk. She looks back to the washed away art, "It cleans well enough." She takes the corner back into the human walkways of this tower. She hovered in looking down the main banistor over looking the lower market floors. She was pushed aside for being in the way, to close to the bansitor. She had nearly slipped through and that was a long drop. She sighed glad of not falling and slides glare over to the puppet stood here too. The construct of death. She frowned back to herself in knowing death isn't at fault for his own power. His not wanted to see lives cut to short to soon, even if those souls do.
"You should put the art on the top floor." its rare that he speaks of time distorted things like this. She makes sure the chalk is safe and then with taking a thremo flask of fresh brewed tea. She even has tea cups for them both. A strange crystal material that he can't fathom but its this crystal that allows him to drink a mortal's drink as a spirit being. A broken material... but it is not. A paradox thing, and she's the only being that carves things from such materials. She the only one that repairs the sigil panels. Not even the creator of the sigil system could do that, death has asked them at some point.
"Does it matter?" he takes her peace offering of tea, "Why should I let my art affect the morals of mortals? At least in the car park, is out of mind and can be erased simply." He shakes at this.
"Its because it will be a beautiful thing. I would hope it was better shared before it was erased." He sips that tea with great joy to taste the content. He played a bit with the rim of the cup, "Its more that my wife was impressed. I love her smile. She doesn't do that enough." Eliza smiled at that, just hearing the god of death talk so simple like a man in love. She can be forgiven to forget his the god that shepherds souls across. Yet even death is just another soul being with soul wishes. Souls have every bit of granted feelings.
"Sure lover boy. If it make's her smile." she tried her own tea now, and enjoys it as he does, "I envy that ability to have love. I know it too. I cant erase those things I lifted in many hands I have owned." She stares about the tower in hazed thought of so many memories, "I love that smile too. He made all that sad, fear and strife... disapear in such a smile." She closed her eyes and sips tea, "I don't like his frown that he worn when he stabbed me to death." Death sharply looked to her, "I guess I didn't tell you that story yet. I sometimes tell death about it. I guess its your turn." She collected the empty cups, "Next time we have tea again." he stared back to the tower and the lives. The lengths of time left in some and the unfair measures of lengths it can be. But he can't contorl how long or short time is for the humans. At least without breaking rules, "Don't do it, Death. It maybe unfair but we aren't in contorl of when souls dont have enough to continue. Really, that's what makes this whole thing such a shock for me. All these souls with so much time. I seen what happens to souls that run out. That fade away. It's not even the fault of the abyss. Sometimes souls just burn out. We don't want living things without souls. This universe doesn't have the guts for such things. A human in full breathing and able function. The soulless and unable to cross over. It's turly sad watching those people die and not leave the shell like they should." He lifted to her exiting away from him, "You're wife is an example... so maybe treasure her all that more. You cant take her soul out because the soul type she is, isn't one that can be harvested." Death breaks the railing in touch. He wanted to step after her in learn what she means. Yet his death, he knows about how things die. He already knew that Eliza has and will do anything possible to when that time comes. He will owe her that debt, since she was successful to do such thing he couldn't. So his back to the staring at the tower. He looked up at where the art will be now. The image of Eliza looking down at where this conversation was.
"What's you deal with her?" Omens caught death.
"business and pleasure." he replies in montone, "She did amazing job of graphing another soul into you. You're soul name looks more. Befitting a true title." Death looking up at that future art, "She has very right as your master to edit your soul name as she did. It was rather considerate. Clothus don't respect slaves. She gladly a unqiue soul that you should maybe respect more." he crossed his arms, "She removed her soul letters before they broke your divinity. She had to use her own soul to peice you back together. You're so wreckless. Nearly wasted to a more drity handed clothus."
"Don't do that." Omen snarled, "Don't talk like you know." Death shakes at omens.
"Of course I know." Death voiced while omens was going to leave, "She broke to sand dust and pulled all that is back together. That's the wrecklessness of a human. She gave each a part of sand to us concepts. She made us pull together through that terror. She erased our memories as we asked of her." Omen tracking back to hold death at the collar, but death is not a man to be cheated. He pulled omens to hit the floor frist, "Of course I know. Because I see the amount of living life left." Slams omens to stay down, "We all should be walking corpses." omen's stayed at the floor and death left him behind now.
"My lord!" Mat running over to help the puppet construct up, "Are you alright?"
"This vessel body is weaker then others. This isnt a big deal." to prideful to be helped up. Getting up himself without aid, ending the subject at that, "We should continue with the prayers rights." shuffled the lad along to other business, "You have to turn the light off at the office 934 on the way past." Mat sighed in another strange order about playing with the light switches.
She peeks check if this was the right angle that death could have meant. It was a massive wall space of white. A floor with a locked door... which she tripped with bells. It's the only walkway to roof access. But it looked down at all floors. It's dangerous up here, and she puts on a safety harness due to it. She puts on orange light blocker. Starting with the chalks that aren't visible in normal light. A lot of them that were red light or ultraviolet lighting. She has a white human chalk to mark outline guides for every part. A sort of foundational chalk to then chalk in the realm material chalks and brace in the gods in their images. She worked regardless of light. She was lighting her own candles for light sourcing, then finding that some her candles helps highlight the chalks that were hard to see. So she has a ton of candles in many coloured flames to allow her to work. The progression of art and the strange candles made plenty of attention, but once again was that no one knew if this was sponsored and if there was approval for someone to be up there doing that. Many just assumed the royal's had paid the artist to make it. It wasn't out of place for the festive public events.
"Lets clear coat that." the prank kids trying to repay the dishonour.
"We going to have to ask someone to unlock that door and permission to do so." so they began this goose chase to work that out. The days rolled faster and the last mark was smudged in. That door flies open. One side with putting the candles out and the others with clear coating, making the chalk stay. In a way, it destroys the art - as death's power tends to. But it was now so stuck on that even life couldn't tear it apart. Even quicker was the squad that snatched her from this walkway. She was to very focused in finishing fine detailing to be captured as she was. The bell system was ruined and thus didn't make her alert fast enough. A last spray of clear coating, the dragging of her feet down the access stairs in the arms of some mages. That finished peice was turly a pride of art that reflected her views. A shard of her own soul memories to be shared. Even if the stairs hurts and her hands bleed from being dried by the chalk.
"It was damn worth it." Her voiced, "I guess the vessel was right. Putting it in the car park would have wasted its value."
"Kid... seriously?" the mage holding her up, "What made you think that was safe?"
"I knew the danger before I started." She wacked in the head.
"You're family would be so sad if you fell." she made a very broken distant gaze. But the lecture was still happening. A lot about living a longer life and being loved. It was cringy but the important point was put across that she shouldn't done something to waste her talented life. The talk of maybe being a future artist and being rich was also used. It did get through to her, she knows it was life threatening to done something so wreck less. She knows herself worth and the worth others have of her. Its how she knew she could finish it safely, always knowing that Josh and Jess would have been blamed themselves of her death. She knows Mat to know he would have felt broken if she was gone without him. Her living brother... maybe his not in at this time. She hasn't known about the fate of both her family names. Her mom would be sad. Her grandfather. There be a lot of disappointed and regret people. She was knew to be careful for their sake. To that other side of her argument, in why she went ahead to even complete this art. The only people that cared now was on one hand. She wanted some excuse that her art connected her to more then just five. She is happy to had finished it before they took her away from the ceiling.
"Aren't you hungry or thirsty?" it was nice that someone had even asked her, meaning they think she's a human. It is nice. She felt tired, she over worked herself and likely was shutting down. The rescue team felt more compelled to get down to a level to properly medically check her over.
"When I asked other gods... even when I mention it to my lord. You all look at me like I am the weird one." Mat looking up at the finished art and seen the whole thing of the girl being rescued off the railings. She was the nameless chalk artist that everyone has been talking about her art, "Why is she different?" He knows very well who his asking this to.
"Stay away form the rail." he backed off as instructed, "I don't think that what you want ask me." Mat sits down at the floor and looked up at the art, "You have history beyond even what I know of. I would even go at a educational guess that she brought you back here on purpose, instead of herself. She put a lot of things back here. I can't tell how long they have left anymore. As according to my sight, we shouldn't even be. That's why I have been very relaxed on my domain's laws. I can no longer even trust time." Death pushed the railing forwards to fall short from Mat, "I am sure life is having the same sort of confused melt down." Lowering to the little human follower, "I talk like this because you're an undertaker. You know the rules. You know what it used to be. I suspect the sight you see, unfiltered... it must be hard. Seeing everyone around you... even your flesh." death looking at his own hands, "She's adapted to that. I suspect she waiting for you to make your mind up, Ender." lifted away, "This time space is a hollow shell of what used to be. Reanimated corpse puppeted by some creature beyond our belief."
"Like a Cat crawler?" Mat asked after Death. Death shivered in hearing that, and continues ignoring. The kid left behind. Omen's was back around to Mat, lifting the kid to evade the broken railing; protective of the child's potentially short life. Moving them both to a safer place to talk of things.
Mat takes another last stare to the large chalk art at the highest floor.
That art of love to all concepts, to all things that enact the very essential things of what makes everything and everyone. Even the what seems like vague gods among them line up held purposes. The direction they look of each other held double meanings. Everything that each figure is made from could be the very basic things humans encounter each day. Even his lord was up there, he fits right in. That second instinctive feeling of knowing danger or hope in looking forwards to something - everyone does that. The weird figure lady made of hands is the kinship of close ties, bonds the reach any distance. Life and death are twins in looks but hate isn't want divided them; rather it's that they were of the same goal but took different approaches. Body language is all this chalk needed to tell its moral story. To see this perspective of true titles was a thing to behold. Mortals wouldn't question this picture for the metaphor story values. Its the one who have to many questions that will fear the artist. It be those that love gods to hate this art most. It is people like Mat that wonders how did the artist capture all these gods in such a way and if this was some sort of memory over imagination. There are hidden gods, her candles lights showed there was chalk used in the blank spaces. Even the unseen ones carry a message in the same way life and death does.
"That girl..." hissed not meaningly out loud by omens. It has Mat turn back, concerned of why his god took such tone against a seemingly normal mortal. This tower laws were a mess, and yet it was proven she was human. Even her drained use of magic, the way she uses negative effects to the same advantages and her morality in things she does. Sure, Mat is and always was cautious of her. But it wasn't because of seeing her as some monster. Being human was monster enough, Mat knew that even demons feared humans on off days.