His tasks done, Ripkar decided it was time at last to seek out the goddess who had given him such a strange and arduous task. Not that he'd had too terribly much to do, all things considered. The Destra family had been quite useful, after all. Putting pressure at the proper place at the proper time was one of his specialities; giving the boy back at the end had been a particularly generous decision, he thought, and would make them more likely to obey his orders in the future, should he require their cooperation again.
But now, how did one summon a goddess? Perhaps the answer was that she would find him, and he needed only to linger where she might find him easily. Ripkar leaned against a tree, crossing his arms and his ankles. Hafgufa watched from her place above, long tentacles spilling down from the tree like strange, slick vines. Would she be contented with what he had to offer? He certainly hoped so, since he'd gone to such troubles to confirm what exactly had occurred. He'd brought along the feather as well, in case she wished to seek out someone to confirm it on her own. He slid it between his fingers, marveled at how much a single piece of a single animal could reveal.
A small smirk formed on his face as he considered what he'd learned. The king slain by his own half-brother, who would have thought it? It was a stroke of brilliance on Mordred's part to frame the king's own child as well. Had he been a loyal sort he might have thrown his lot in with such a man, but Ripkar had long since learned that there was no man - nor woman - on this planet, or any other, that could keep his attention for very long. Mordred would fail, sooner or later, and then it would be rather bothersome for those who had followed him. So Ripkar would stay out of it all, wait and watch. Perhaps nudge a piece here or there when the mood struck; step in when the time was right, or the money good enough.
He glanced up at a flash of white in the distance, braced himself for the effect the cold goddess. |