[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 10 ----

Last night, Thymbe woke shivering in my arms. In the dull, terrible pre-dawn light, she whispered that she had dreamt of death. I held her, and reassured her that it was just a nightmare, which could never hurt her.

This afternoon she took me aside:

"Pandokos..." she began, "Do you still believe in the old gods back home, now that you've seen this one in the flesh? Are the oracles gifted to see the future? Is Elysium just a foolish hope, or do we just end?"

One thing I've learnt in this country is that it's often best to just smile and continue the conversation as best you can when people start talking crazy. I resorted to Plan B: address a portion of the conversation that makes sense.

"I don't really think the oracles can predict the future," I confided. "I know you're a priestess, and believe in that stuff, but the poems are so cryptic that people just interpret them generously afterward."

I don't think she was really listening to me anyway, and my only reply was a thoughtful hum. She reached into her saddlebag, and pulled out a small, leather-bound book, improbably smelling strongly of butter.

"I found this at the library," she said shyly. "I guess the locals have decided... Pandokos, promise me that you'll live up to their expectations, that you'll set a good example for them. All their past gods have been so cruel to them, and they're such a good-hearted people. Promise me that you'll take care of him. Promise me..."

She was really getting worked up, so I said, "I promise" although it was all non-Greek to me. Silently she handed me the book: "The Collected Sayings of Pandokos the Prophet," with the extremely odd subtitle: "In his first incarnation."

Plan C is to pretend that you're suddenly very busy and exit the conversation with crazy-person as soon as you're sure they aren't going to stab you in the back. Grabbing the proffered book, I muttered some excuse and set about readying my troops to storm Godsgrave mountain.

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