God of Discovery [high fantasy, slow build, mlm]

Civil unrest, part 1

D'Argen did not drink nearly enough to feel the effects of the alcohol so he only nudged the plate in front of him away instead of throwing it. It was not the staff's fault. Since D'Argen had returned to the city, he had not gone anywhere near the kitchens and this was the first time the serving or kitchen staff probably saw him. So it was not the mortal's fault that D'Argen wanted to gag just at the sight of the fried chicken in front of him.

D'Argen was one of a few Never Born that did not need to consume any food or drink for his body to function. He was, however, the only one dramatic enough to outright refuse to put anything in his mouth that was once alive. Honey. He liked honey, though it was usually too sweet for more than a single spoonful, and mead.

When the second staff member passed behind him holding a large silver pitcher, D'Argen placed a hand on top of his glass to prevent them from pouring the wine. The woman moved on without a word and topped off Cana's glass right beside him.

Cana, like D'Argen, did not need to consume food or drink. She, however, enjoyed it.

D'Argen was a little peeved to note that the plate in front of her was piled with intricately cut and perfectly seasoned vegetables rather than the meat on all other plates.

It was not the staff's fault that Cana's dislike for meat was better known than D'Argen's dislike of all food in general. Acela probably remembered Cana's tastes but not D'Argen's. When D'Argen chanced a look at the queen, he caught her eyes for barely a moment before she broke contact first. And he caught something else. It was strange. There was something on her face, her expression, that he did not recognize at all. He was either more intoxicated than he thought, or she had never once made that face before him.

Once all the plates were set and both the white and red wine had gone along the long table, D'Argen flagged one of the staff to ask for mead.

He did not have nearly enough alcohol in him to survive this dinner without snapping. Not when Lilian was sitting diagonally from him, their jacket covering only one arm and the other bare to the room. The skin was smooth and unblemished as Lilian wrapped that arm around Abbot with a wide grin and whispered something into his ear. The artist stifled a laugh. D'Argen held back a grimace.

The entire time they had been drinking earlier, D'Argen felt a tension in his body that he could not explain. Not when Lilian was joking and laughing with both Abbot and Yaling as if nothing had happened. Not when he remembered seeing Acela leave their rooms.

D'Argen downed the entire glass of mead as soon as it was poured and the man, who had barely taken a step back, topped it up. He hesitated, waiting, but D'Argen stopped himself from downing the second glass. It would not do to lose sense of himself completely.

Then one set of the dining hall doors opened and no matter how little or how much he had drank, nothing would have been able to keep his mouth from dropping open in shock.

Olov, God of Passage, apologized for being late before he had even stepped fully into the large dining hall. The silence from his entrance was awkward not because he was late but because of his appearance. He ignored it as he passed one of the staff and then pointed to an empty seat at the long table.

D'Argen snapped his mouth closed when the two met eyes and chanced a quick look around the table. He was glad to note he was not the only one surprised.

Olov's long silvery hair, a shimmering cascade of straight lines, was almost completely gone. The man looked like he had taken a dull spoon to his scalp and had cut most of it off and shaved the rest. It left half of his head completely bare and the rest were strands so short they barely reached his chin.