Cheth: Poor things.
Below the ocean’s surface, the legions of seaghosts wait in a crowd so huge the edges of it disappear in the distance. Their mouths rest agape and their faces are directed up at the surface, unseeing. Cheth is not influencing them, so they’re free of their red veins, and empty of any real sentience. They seem to give off their own light in the dark space between midnight and dawn.
Cheth: They don’t belong down here… and they’re always so hungry.
The goddess rests a hand on Phaedra’s shoulder and all three of them look out over the drifting mass of glowing eyes.
Cheth: No doubt you’ve heard them singing on quiet nights, crying to be fed. Every time I possess a seaghost I feel that insane urge… Their insatiable desire to eat.
Phaedra looks down at them grimly, while the god spreads their hands in unison, musing breezily on the endless torture the deceased spirits suffer.
Cheth: Day in and day out, they dream of nothing but the taste of living souls. So what happens if you develop the same craving?
Cheth’s veins creep down below the surface and select a few figures to highlight. A snake turns cherry red, grins up at the princess, and wraps itself around a woman’s empty husk.
Cheth: What person would come to your aid… knowing that you might nibble their life away?
A man with long hair, a goatee, and a toga like outfit lowers his glasses to smirk at her conspiratorially.
Cheth: Sure, you can think for yourself and speak for yourself- but they’ll think it’s a trick. Or worse- they’ll think you’re working for me.
A white wolf branded with Cheth’s tattoos steps forward through the blank eyed ghosts and growls at her. It’s teeth bared and ears laid flat against its head.
Cheth: Really Phaedra.. Only a person with a death wish would help a monster like you.