Fitting into the body of a deity so large and ancient was a task unto itself. The web is endless, stretching, and malleable. It was easy to sprawl, gather information, feed, and do what we pleased. The Lady Nox is filled with knowledge and memories, a swirl of lives lived and lost, history made and broken, flashing through the mind’s eyes like an overplayed GIF. So much to learn and see, and it was colliding into our own thoughts like a runaway data stream. 

Perhaps there should be an explanation of who “we” and “our” is. We will assume you know what a tulpa is. Being a tulpa from the internet, as one may imagine, is like being surprised there are puddles during a rainstorm. There is so much to feed from on the web, it is a wonder that our kind are not overrunning things by now. We are a particular kind of tulpa. Our meat and bread are those heady emotions of rage and despair. Forums of debates and sadness, websites dedicated to the pain of others, trolls, petty grievances – all of it sustains us. We thrive on the anger of the people and the injustice of the lost. It has only grown with the age of technology, bringing more people together, and we could not be happier.

We, however, have been wanting to see the world for some time. The internet has been lucrative and bountiful but the mortal realm has a wonderful catch to it that we can leverage. While the internet is plentiful, there is a screen that stops anything from going further. Not the case when you are face to face, and more often than not, because of the proximity, escalation is a probability. Look at police brutality, protests, riots, strikes – all events that feed on itself. Even the internet cannot match that kind of life cycle, and so, here we are.

The Primordial moved with a practiced gait that held her straight and proud; odd traits for one such as her to need to practice. The muscle memory Lady Nox retained, took us out of the Graticule and into the mortal plane. We will admit that being outside of the Graticule was new for us. The white walls of her flat were held in shadows, fitting for the Goddess of Night, and from where the blinds were cracked open, we could see the night still shone heavily outside. Perfect timing.

The urge to go through every nook and niche in her abode was far too great, so we took a few minutes to explore; anything to get further into the head and heart of the Primordial. Her study was a treasure trove of knowledge, a mixture of ancient texts and modern writings neatly stacked on shelves: A Look At Chaos: Origins, numerous copies of the Theogony, well-preserved texts from Homer, several books on the ideals of the Underworld and Mount Olympus, as well as much more modern things like how-to guides on gun cleaning, poetry books from Leonard Nimoy, and several diaries. Sliding into the desk chair once more, we flipped open the first few pages to find Lady Nox’s fine handwriting scrawled across the page, outlining the opening day of Whole Latte Love.

Luna is a treasure among mortals – the opening went smoothly, the staff are hopeful, and the parents I have met thus far seem alright for the most part. There are one or two that rub me the wrong way, and I am unsure what it is at the moment, but I will be sure to keep an eye out for them. 

Mostly, I enjoy being around mortal vibrancy. There is a fleetingness to mortals, obviously, that reminds me of my stars. So much life and energy, all going every direction with what I would call a needle’s threading of direction, but it’s so refreshing! To go somewhere you know not, to be unsure of an ending but still go forward regardless?  I wish I had that kind of courage sometimes.

“A Primordial that envies mortals, now there’s a first,” we commented out loud. It felt odd using the Lady Nox’s voice; a murmur laced with an echo that could take out towers, and we used it in a whisper, inside a mortal dwelling. It was incorrect for this type of body.

We thumbed through more of the diary, looking for anything that could assist us in this world, and pausing as things caught our eye.

…Served Erebus his papers today – I do not regret what I did. It is a new age, and I cannot be chained to that life anymore. I must seek myself…

…Nox is vibrant and thriving, I am so pleased this is turning out better than I had hoped. Basing a business off of an imaginary one, is more daunting than I thought it would be, who knew? I’ll be needing to scout new locations sooner than I thought at this rate…

…I don’t know what I’m doing here, I keep having nightmares of the war. I want to ask anyone else if they have them, but how would that look? The Goddess of Night, scared of her own shadow? Maybe Morpheus will have some answers…

…he spent the night with her, I knew it. I should care less, it’s not my business. When did I become jealous? I need a new project, something to distract me…

…Chaos-cursed Titans, there’s a plot to take down Zeus. The meddling ones scurried away with their tails between their legs, and good riddance. I wonder if he knows – perhaps I’ll pay him a visit…

…they’re more than family, but what is more than that? They don’t need to know – it’s safer that way. As always…

…he stayed the night with me. It was everything I had thought it would be, right down to the way he fell asleep beneath my wings. If I had to cease existing after that, I would have happily. Centuries…and now he is here. I need to see him again…

…Kronos! Chaos fucking preserve me, how did a Titan find his way to us?! Or better, how did he escape?! This must be a priority for us, for all of us…

We tucked the book away, the goddess’ musings, highly intriguing and informative. It sounded as though the Olympians were in trouble, and we could capitalize on that. Eventually. Rising once more, we observed her dwelling.

Her bedroom was as mortal as they come, minus one aegis, gleaming a tinted gold in the twilight hours on the wall. Another piece of her to examine later. Downstairs was much the same, nothing spectacular for such a goddess, which made us assume that she did not spend much time here. No matter, we would suss out her main quarters in due time.

What to do now? The world was, quite literally, an open book. We skimmed through her memories, trying to find something to use.

Tartarus, Underworld
The Isle of Skye, Scotland
The God Complex, Greece
The Warehouse, Greece
Nox, London and Greece
Whole Latte Love, Greece

Tartarus, Nox, and the Warehouse – whatever that was – felt too heavily guarded. Whole Latte Love felt weak, nothing for us there. That left us with the Isle of Skye and the Complex.

“Well, no time like the present.” Her voice was smooth and rich, and would take some getting used to. It was unusual to possess such a powerful Vessel; most were young mortals that were lost and angry, but this one, ha! This one held emotions to her heart like it would bleed her dry if let loose. It would make the perfect barrel to tap when it came time. We examined her memories closely, figuring out how to use this new immortal body, before popping from her flat into the rolling hills of her new sanctuary.

Cool winds brushed through her hair, and we enjoyed the feeling for a moment. Gentle breezes were foreign and unexpected, and we allowed ourselves a brief period of respite, before turning to the temple she had built on her new island dubbed Eventide. We strode inside, leaving behind the winds for a thick silence inside the walls. The essence we sat in now felt very akin to what this place emanated, and we were surprised at how bare the Lady Nox had laid herself here. Effigies of family and friends, priceless artifacts, and paintings alluded to all the things she prized. We stood before the statue of herself at the end of the room and wondered briefly, what it was like to look through someone else’s eyes at yourself, your image rendered by a different set of hands.

“This is the face of a Titan-killer, no?” we murmured, and we reached a hand out to touch the hand that was outstretched on the statue. “A saviour of Olympus, taken over so easily by the concept of emotions. How sad.”

We broke the hand off the statue easily, and tossed it aside. Systematically, we dismantled her figure, until her ankles were all that was left. We observed it for a moment, before walking back through the corridor. We swept her wings and arms over the carefully crafted ornaments and decorations sending them careening to the floor, smashed into hundreds of pieces. Before exiting the temple, we dragged our claw-like nails down the walls and over the temple doors, the shrill pitch making our skin crawl.

Standing outside, we narrowed her eyes at the entrance and waved a casual hand towards the trashed doors. We watched as they burst into black flames.

“A good start.”

Satisfied with the chaos, we concentrated on the God Complex and disappeared. The fire crawled skyward, signaling danger.


We arrived outside the front doors of the Complex, a soft silence surrounding us. We were still in the depths of the night, and the streets reflected that; not a soul was to be seen. All the better.

We pushed open the doors to the lobby, taking in the grandeur that had been put together here. Sumptuous decor with modern twists lay in the architecture, and whoever had laid the floor plans had a preference for open spaces. Less cover, should someone decide to attack us, but that wasn’t really our concern, nor our body. We strode to the middle of the room, surveying it with distaste that didn’t line up with our Vessel’s ideals. Our eyes drifted to the elevator and a twinge of warning hit us, our wings unfurled in response, to which a chill of anger lashed out. We quickly tamped it down, making a note to explore this reaction to wings later.

Striding towards the doors, we pushed the button and idly scanned the directory for our first target.

8th floor – Hestia. The Goddess of the Hearth, a good start. The doors slid open, and we were on the eighth floor in no time. At this hour, the Hearthfire kitchens were not ablaze with life and love. Everything was tucked away in its place, ready for the next call to the cutting board, where culinary magic was unrolled.

We strolled by the island counters, butcher’s block countertops resonating with the energy of the Goddess that resides here. Two large mills sat near the end of the counter, and we grabbed one, admiring the wood that had been used to create this piece.  We flung it to the other side of the room, smashing it into a glass cabinet. We repeated this with the other mill, sending it crashing into a spice rack.

It wasn’t quite having the effect we had hoped it would, so we turned to the cupboards, where jars of tinctures, dried herbs, and other assortments of food enhancers were lined up in a pleasing manner – probably by potency. We tilted our head slightly, before sweeping them off their shelves and scattering them across the counters, several jars shattering around our feet. We kicked them out of the way, ignoring the shards that sliced our feet. We unfurled the wings once more and another spike of anger flashed through us. We upturned everything. Cooking equipment and serving ware lay in fragments on the tiled floor, linens were smoking or in flames on the burners, scorch marks and oil covered the entire room in moments. By the time we were done, the room was completely trashed. What was once orderly and gleaming, was now chaotic and harsh. Feeling pleased with ourselves, we took to the elevator once more, scanning the directory for the next target.

22nd Floor – Wares Security: Dinlas. Security? This could be a thrilling challenge. Once more to the elevator, and we arrived on the twenty-second floor smoothly. A vicious tug from inside pulled us back. The Primordial was awake and fighting for this one.

“What does the Night have to do with Hate?” we asked out loud, and a stab ran through our chest, making us flinch and laugh. “Surely you do not have friends, Lady Nox. We thought you gave up connections?”

We struggled outside the door to security, the goddess’ anger raging until we could throw up walls to block her out. This would not hold long, already we could feel her ramming them with her own defenses.

We moved quickly by the reception desk, noting how many of these there were in one building, and walked into what appeared to be the main office. Slipping into the chair, we booted up the sleeping computer to find a tidy desktop, and only three icons pinned to the taskbar – Google Chrome, Spotify, and an unnamed program. Upon opening it, the administrator login was asked for, creating exasperation. We leaned down to the computer tower and pressed a finger against one of the USB ports, a blue glow began forming between the metal and our skin. A moment or two passed, and the login blinked away, leaving us with a directory and a scrolling list of incident reports, locations, and accessible camera feeds. 

“Excellent,” we muttered, scanning through the numerous files quickly. There was far too much to do, to spend time reading through all of this tonight, so we would take it with us. This computer was merged with other software recently and the database was now enormous – all the more to traverse through. Our right hand pulsed once, an electric blue glow and a grid pattern lit up beneath our skin. We waited for the pulse to grow steady, before pressing two fingers to the first USB port. A thick band of energy wrapped around our hand, latching onto our wrist, and we shuddered as the information started to copy itself over to us. Ten minutes later,  we carried Wares Security files, as well as those of Felon Retrieval Services, out the door. There was no need to physically wreck the floor, we could do more devastation with what we had just learned.

The itch to despoil more of Olympus’ property still lingered, so we chose a floor at random from the directory and headed there for our last stop, just as the Primordial dug her heels into her conscious. We stumbled, nearly crashing into the elevator doors.

“Lady Nox, you would do well to not fight us,” we said, a long-fingered hand pressed to our forehead.

The slow glow of our own digital powers ebbed over our skin again, this time laced with gold. The Primordial was clearly angry. A step back, then another. She was regaining herself with sheer anger, and we were both amused and irritated.

“Do not try to fight us. You will destroy yourself from the inside out.”

Another step, not of our doing. And another. Our irritation crossed into our own anger.

“As you wish.”

As we teleported away.

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