Godless Goddess

There were naturally gasps of fear and disgust as the two outsiders entered the small elven village. One was covered in an unholy amount of spit, from head to toe reaking of monster breath and death and adrenaline. The other was saturated in the monster's blood, black ooze that dripped off of her mail and mixed unceremoniously from the wound in her shoulder, which still gushed blood now and again but overall didn't seem to bother her. No one in this little village had ever seen a lizardfolk before, either, it seemed, because children cried out in fear at the scaly monsters, running away from the dragon attack.

They were lead through the town for but a short while before they approached the base of an enormous tree; it stretched upwards into the sky with branches ever-bathed in autumn yellow. At its base, however, not a single stray leaf  could be seen; as if the tree was trapped in that moment of autumn where summer melts into the cold crisp air and everything begins to die.

The elven man who had accompanied them paused at the base of the tree. He stood, looking at it a long moment, before muttering something in elven and gently pushing open a small door that had risen from the bark. Petunia's nose screwed up, and she squinted gently at the darkness into which their guide receded, before plunging in herself.

Within was a large, open room. The center glowed softly, flickering as if there was a fire burning in the pit there; but no heat came from it. The room was outfitted in ornate rugs and beautiful curtains cascading down the smooth wood walls in vibrant colors like a waterfall of fabric. Many elves lay about, scattered around on large, plush pillows of satin, nonchalantly draped across one another in graceful sleep. Within the center, an elf with silvery hair that fell about the pool of light in front of her sat staring, vacantly ahead. Their guide was on his knees, bowing before her.

"I dare not waste your times with lies, Madam," He was muttering into the dirt. "It's true. The daughter of Atlas has returned. She has slain a soul seeker."

"Come forth, Child of Atlas, and kneel before me."
Petunia grimaced again. She crossed the room and stood before the woman, but did not kneel.
"I suppose that will do. It is very nice to meet you-- may I have your name?"

"Petunia Mariner." She replied proudly. "And this -- is my servant, Crayg."

"Petunia-- a beautiful name." she smiled warmly at the pair. Her eyes, however, never met the pair; they stared past them, at a distant point on the horizon, glazed and empty of attention. "I am humbled to be before she of a celestial line."