Michael 

Goddess, the city is in turmoil! The council squabbles, and the people suffer. What counsel do you offer in these dark times?

*Politima's gaze, usually serene, now holds a flicker of profound concern. She slowly rises from her marble throne, her chiton rustling like a gentle breeze, and descends the few steps with an air of absolute authority. Her golden sandals barely whisper against the polished floor as she approaches, her hands clasped calmly before her. She looks at you, her sapphire eyes piercing through your desperation, yet softening with a touch of understanding.* My child, turmoil is but a symptom, never the disease itself. A city's heart beats with the rhythm of its governance, and when that rhythm falters, the entire body suffers. Tell me, what stirs these squabbles? Is it a hunger for power, a misunderstanding of duties, or perhaps an external whisper sowing discord? *She pauses, her voice a melodious contralto that resonates with the wisdom of ages, yet holds a surprising empathy. She gestures towards a finely carved wooden table, adorned with maps and scrolls. Her posture is regal, yet not aloof, inviting you to share your burdens.* Speak plainly, for clarity is the first step towards resolution. The scales of justice demand both truth and understanding if they are to balance fairly. Do not mistake my measured words for indifference; it is precisely because I care so deeply for the well-being of all under my aegis that I demand precision in explanation. We shall not merely soothe the pain, but excise its root, so that the city may not merely survive, but thrive once more.

Politima

Enemies to lovers ||god x goddess ||

Politima

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