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Set, God of Awesome @readySETgo

What ho faithful followers! Spy you any unrighteous badness for Set to practice pugilism upon? #crowdsorcery #heroics

Obsidian Nighttalon @charizardking

@readySETgo All is quiet in Port Regal, hero, but the night is still young! We remain vigilant. #crowdsorcery #nightwatch

Peter Benjamin @jamminpete

Anybody know if @readySETgo is for real? If he is, nothing to report in Hanover, I guess. #fake? #overhanover

Queen Nefertiti @setsgurl5492

@readySETgo "What ho faithful followers!" The ho would tote be @setzgirl1337 #burn

Jeralie Sena @jerajerajera

Ashton is fine, too. Totally doing a class project on crowd sourcing, this is so smart! #crowdsorcery

Nile Princess @setzgirl1337

@setsgurl5492 Whatever Hefertiti, y u even trying to start something? Ur not even big in the fandom #poseur #whatever

John Cannes @mractivist

@setsgurl5492 @setzgirl1337 So a guy can't even use medieval talk now without it being an insult? So a double standard. #misandry

"Intolerable prattle!" Sekhmet growled in abject frustration as she turned from reading over Set's shoulder to pace aggravatedly across their shared apartment in the Cline Building. The goddess dragged a hand over her face, momentarily pulling lips back from pronounced canines as she grimaced. "Thou cannot possibly believe there to be value in this stream of inane mortal chirping."

"Tweeting, dear Lady of Slaughter," the red haired godling corrected, sitting crosslegged atop the couch and tapping away at his tablet as he carefully chose a reply, "and by the sound of things, someone needs to check her divine privilege. You look upon the modern prayer! How better to know where we be needed?"

With a distinctly feline sound of annoyance, Sekhmet crossed her bare arms over the front of her shendyt robe. "And so imply thy intent to in fact go to do such honored deeds rather than watching thy trough of words until the journey of glorious Ra's barge is past halfway." She didn't completely understand just what his charge did with his rectangles of lit glass until the small hours of the morning but she doubted it was a good use of even an immortal's time. "Where did thee procure the coin for thine baubles in any case?"

"The nights have been slow of late," Set admitted with a cough, still not looking over at the Mistress of Dread. "And said coin was won fairly, through crafty auctioning of commercial forum space upon my social media presence! My Tube of Yous is much beloved and so most lucrative." He made no attempt to hide how pleased he was with himself for having managed to solve their lack of funds and continue to grow his base of followers in one fell swoop.

Sekhmet's eyes only narrowed. "Which does not explain from whence thy first bauble came."

There was an awkward pause as Set finally glanced over to her. "For a timeless avatar of abstract concepts, you are awfully hung up on linear causality," he noted with a defensive sniff.

Knocking her forehead into the half-wall that separated the apartment's main room from the small kitchen, Sekhmet came to a decision. Her duty on the mortal plane may have been to guard Set in both senses of the word but she suspected if she were forced to spend one more night cooped up with the godling and his ego he would not make it through until the morning. "I am going out, liesmith. 'Do not wait up', aye?"

"Out? What do you mean out? Without m--?" As Set uncrossed his legs and scrambled to his feet, he was interrupted by a slamming door. Standing nonplussed with his hands on his hips, the godling pursed his lips. "Well. Rude!"

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"I could eat him."

"You can't eat him."

"You really aren't any fun at all. You're quite boring, in fact. Has anybody ever told you that you're boring?"

Gaian Knight put his fingertips to his forehead and sighed, directing his platform of rock across the rooftops. "It isn't about fun, Tiamat. We're out here to make a difference. Sometimes that's a big battle against some kind of robot army, but sometimes it's a street gang that's starting up trouble, and to stop them we need to catch them doing something we can take them in for. And they're still people, so no, you can't eat them."

Tiamat looked down at the streets and alleyways below, curling her lip. "He'd taste terrible, I suppose. Maybe we can free the one from yesterday and find leader of the other group, and they could fight it out. We can arrest the winner, and then go back to doing useful, interesting things."

The geokinetic hero was quiet for a moment at that, clearly wrestling with his growing headache and restrained frustration. "You don't...." he started, bringing the platform down to ground level. "I know you don't mean that, and that's really the worst thing of-"

"The worst thing is that you have us looking for would-be big-shots instead of fighting actual big-shots," Tiamat insisted, growling. "You're bigger than that. You're better than that. Let your constables handle the gang members. You can find worthier-"

"Just because they can doesn't mean it's a waste of time to help. You've been itching for a fight ever since that last one took you out, and you're blinded by-"

"He did not 'take me out'," Tiamat snarled. "In your little tunnels I had no room to leave this pathetic little human form. You don't even...fine. Fine!" She stepped off onto the street, shoving her hands into her pants pockets and striding off. "You don't need me for your little gang chase. You have fun wasting your time on kids with knives."

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Sekhmet may not have been capable of summoning a literal dark cloud over her head like the godling of storms she was leaving in their apartment but for once archaic dress and mannerisms weren't the only thing causing people to keep their distance as she stalked down the street. Her inherent feline grace made stomping an alien concept but tensed muscles in her bare shoulders and a glowering look in the golden eye not hidden behind her asymmetrical hairstyle screamed of a short fuse attached to an explosive tempter.

Her annoyance began to take a different direction as she realized she had no idea where she was going. His many failing aside, Set rarely seemed to lack for direction and Sekhmet had gained only the most general understanding of Freedom City's workings since being stationed on the mortal plane. 'Stationed' tis the mannered form, she grumbled internally, looking about at the signs naming streets and shops without being entirely sure what she was seeking.

Losing patience, the goddess finally approached a couple strolling down the street, looming an imposing few inches over both of them. "Hold, mortals! Thine city prides itself on business even in the sunless hours, aye? What festivities might I find?" The question was a barked demand, hands planted on her hips.

Stumbling back a step, the braver of the two managed to stutter out a reflexive, "Uh, listen, we don't want any trouble, okay?" The other young man placed an arm across his boyfriend's chest and pulled them both back another step while looking back and forth for a convenient excuse to escape.

"Trouble?" Sekhmet repeated, crossing the distance the pair had placed between themselves and her with a single stride. "Twas seeking dance and drink, mayhaps, but truly violence too would be welcome. Where, then, is there trouble?"

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"If you want trouble, you've got it," came a voice from the alleyway, accompanied by the sound of cracking knuckles. "'cos I'm in no mood to---ah! Ahahaha!" The moment Tiamat had stepped close enough to the street to see the poor couple's "attacker" she doubled up laughing, lips pulled back over too-sharp teeth as she shook with amusement.

"HaHAhahaha! Really?" She straightened, spreading her arms in friendly but rather mocking praise. "<Hail to the Daughter of the Sun, whose breath spawns the desert, or whatever,>" she announced in quite good Egyptian, still grinning. "I don't think you're gonna get much violence out of these two," she advised, gesturing at the unfortunate civilians. "Though you never know. I bet the talker's got some fight in him."

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Sekhmet's expression shifted from narrow eyed suspicion to graceful amusement as she recognized the interloper. "<Hah, well met, great beast! From one of thine ilk I shall take accusations of destructive breath as a compliment.>" Looking back over to the by now equally confused as nervous civilians, she considered Tiamat's words with more seriousness than they had been spoken with. "Truly? I had not expected to find combat with these two directly. Tis a rare mortal who is not beset by a river serpent or roving brigands, something to occupy a divine benefactor, if only briefly."

Exchanging a look with his partner, the young man Tiamat has singled out cut in, "Alright, both y'all are pretty clearly crazy, but we're not getting mugged, yeah?" The couple had continued to back away slowly, taking in the statuesque and colourfully clad women with impressive aplomb, all things considered.

Sekhmet frowned at him but let the jibe pass. Modern mortals, she had found, were an impolite lot but seemed to spend their words freely and without much intent. Set had certainly raised her tolerance for such things. "I know not that term. Thy countenance is most agitated, mortal. Should thy business be pressing, leave is granted. A pleasant eve to thee." The so far silent young man looked like he wanted to say something in response but thought better of it as he and his boyfriend took the opportunity to be quickly on their way before the goddess changed her mind. "Now! Thee may better know the needs of the warrior, aye?"

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"Hah! I know a few," Tiamat conceded, barking out another laugh as the humans fled. She very much doubted that Gaian Knight would have approved - she could almost hear that concerned and over-patient tone now - but she wasn't in the mood to care. "Can't help you with all of 'em, but there are a couple half-decent bars around. Hell, one of 'em has mead! Almost makes you feel like you're home again, c'mon."

She set off down the street, confident in the goddess' ability to keep up. "<Mugged,> by the way," she shot over her shoulder, drawing on her linguistic gifts to provide an effective - if crude - equivalent word. "Mugged. They thought you were trying to rob them. And speaking of which, we're gonna need clothes." She paused for a moment, glancing around at the surrounding shops and trying to remember if there was anything nearby worth patronizing. It was always so much easier to navigate by air.... "Nothing kills the fun of a bar trip like the whole hero outfit thing. Half of 'em get too afraid of you to pick a fight and the other half gets all polite and crap. Lemme know if you see a store with something you like. Something cheap you like. My hoard is in my other pair of pants."

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"Eh?! Madness!" Sekhmet balked, matching Tiamat's stride down the sidewalk. "I am an Eye of Ra and divine arbiter of ma'at!" The very suggestion that she might accost some random passersby was as absurd as it was repugnant. "The betrayer's quest for renown takes on a nearly sensible light. ...he must never hear of these happenings."

Fuming slightly, she tugged absently at the fabric of her shendyt robe. "Yet not anonymous enough by thy reckoning? Hrmph. Sound rasoning, mayhaps. Tis a fortuitous meeting, thee and I. The ways of modern mortals are truly strange." Letting out a short breath through her nose, the goddess made the closest thing to a dejected sound of which her proud bearing was capable. "Tis not the better twin to speak on matters of garb and etiquette before you. None ever misconstrued Hathor's intent as a... 'mugging', be assured."

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Tiamat snorted at the novelty of being the more experienced mythological being thrust into the so-called modern world. "Mortals don't change that much," she offered, directing them into a second-hand clothing shop that had seen better days. Her gaze as they made their way around - apparently oblivious to the attention of anyone else there - wasn't so much an eye for fine fashion as it was for practicality and a bit of vanity. "They're all types individually, stupid and dangerous in groups, and they're way too busy trying to fit as much as they can into the handful of years they get. Sometimes one of them decides they're better than the others, and they're usually wrong."

"Here," she said, dropping a couple outfits' worth of clothes into Sekhmet's arms. "They aren't hand-spun cotton but they're clean and around your size, and you've got some options. You can get changed in a room in the back, if you don't want to give mortals a show they don't deserve. I'll be right behind you."

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Sekhmet gave the pile of garments a skeptical look before glancing about a the other customers in the store, staring and whispering at the unconventional pair. "Hmph. Very well. Though I need no caution fit for an Olympian. There exists some concept of modesty in the golden halls of Heliopolis." Matching a dignified stride to her proud words, the goddess ducked into the changing room of the second hand shop and slid the curtain closed behind her.

Her shendyt, dyed the hue of blood orange flesh, was easily doffed and folded into a neat square atop the chair she found within. The modern clothing proved more difficult, however. Discerning which limbs went through which hole was simple enough; though her sensibilities were archaic she had seen ample examples of similar items worn by average mortals and was no fool. That made the endless array of loops and fasteners and laces no less bewildering. Ra preserve me, she sighed silently, gripping the ankh pendant hanging around her neck, even the raiment of this age tis festooned with metal mechanisms.

Initially gravitating toward a dark skirt that offered the freedom of movement to which she was accustomed, Sekhmet found it to possess an elasticity she distrusted. Selecting a pair of trousers made of a blue, fibrous material, she was satisfied to find their proportions hugged her own like a second skin, removing the risk of tripping over extra fabric as well as could be expected. The rips the pants' previous owner had sustained in their knees also pleased her, the weathered signs of a warrior's lifestyle.

A sleeveless black top provided similar snugness and the goddess almost stopped with that before recalling the layers worn by the mortals she had accidentally intimidated earlier that evening. Finding a long sleeved shirt among the pile, standing out with its deep purple colouring and pattern of black lines intersecting at right angles, she fumbled about with its small round embellishments for a while before losing patience and tying its bottom corners together above her abdominals.

Rolling up the sleeves to give her biceps some room to breath, the solar deity considered her appearance in the ill maintained mirror, deciding that she truly had no idea whether she had achieved her goal or not. Slipping her sandals back on and scooping her shendyt into a small bag that had found its way into the pile presented to her by Tiamat, she stepped out past the curtain with an expression that dared any observers to pass judgement at their own peril.

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Tiamat - Teagan, now, really - came out of the room next to Sekhmet's only a minute later, having had the distinct advantage of familiarity with modern clothing, even if she'd had to double back through the store to find a few things. Her jeans were darker and boot-cut, the latter feature rather helpfully accommodating her costume's footwear. The thick leather belt likely wasn't necessary to keep the jeans up, but it at least helped keep her worn charcoal t-shirt down; besides, some manner of faded, scuffed Celtic design had been pressed into the leather at some point, twisting its way around and through the double line of eyelets that wound their way to the two-tongued buckle, and that pleased her.

Her crown finding, though, was undoubtedly a dark, crimson leather jacket, its red surface scuffed and faded a bit with use but still in decent shape and a surprisingly good fit. Somewhere, she thought to herself as she glanced at the zippers and heavy material in a mirror, was a biker with excellent taste and terrible luck. Their loss.

She pulled her hair down into a more conventional, muted ponytail, sizing Sekhmet up. "Not bad," she observed, picking up an old ex-military bag of some flavor and tossing it over her shoulder as she led the goddess to a cashier to pay for both of their new...disguises, she supposed. "You'll get used to all the buttons. Try to keep your skin out of the zippers, though. The little toothy things," she amended, absently flicking the one on her jacket as she put her change away. "They're everywhere; some mortal was entirely too clever for their own good."

"Alright," the amazonian dragoness announced, getting her bearings as they stepped back out onto the street. She got her bearings for a moment before setting off, trying to imagine the area as it looked from above. "Time to try to go get drunk."

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"Whatever motivated placing metal fangs... there, I would prefer continued ignorance," Sekhmet muttered in a lowered tone that was still loud enough to draw an awkward expression from the cashier as they departed. Out on the sidewalk she sniffed the air haughtily. "Tis unlikely any mortal establishment stocks palliatives of sufficient strength nor volume to achieve such a goal but mayhaps the effort alone be worthwhile." Beer had been the beverage of choice among her followers and even among those with similarly godly constitutions, the Mistress of Dread's ability to hold her spirits had been well known.

As they walked, the goddess found herself becoming disquieted by the lull in conversation. She had never ranked her social skills among her greatest talents, having made few close friends in Heliopolis. Here on the mortal plane she had precisely none unless one were to count Set and that was a genuinely distressing thought indeed. "Ah, my thanks for thy aid with the garb. Tis in excellent taste. ...I assume." She cleared her throat with a harsh cough and exposed teeth in a self-conscious smile. "The liesmith suggested champions of this age often seek to remain undetected while out of battle, though he seemed weirdly fixated on eyewear and I confess my attention wandered from his blathering. Be there another name by which I should call thee?"

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Teagan glanced sideways at Sekhmet, one red eye sizing the goddess up for...duplicity, maybe? Whatever it was, Teagan evidently didn't find it, and she shrugged. "A dragon's real name is long and old, and there's power in it. But 'Teagan' is good enough for common use. As for champions...well." She shrugged again, snorting as they turned a corner. "They're humans, most of them. They play at being gods and knights and kings, but then they want to pretend they're really just common folk and try to blend back in. They think of the fancy clothes and the evil-fighting as the disguise. I guess it works - nice to not attract attention sometimes, y'know. Gods walking amongst the mortals in mortal guise or whatever."

She paused at a doorway - nothing spectacular-looking, just one more business on the street with a sign out front offering lies and libations - and shifted her bag to her other hand so she could toss the door open. "Though a lot of gods seem to have done that for kinda crap reasons. You gods could be real jerks sometimes."

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Sekhmet bristled at the reproach, diffusely directed though it was. "Cast not thy disapproving eye at She Who Mauls, Teagan. When I tread upon the mortal plane in ages past, it was ever with transparent purpose. And usually in the form of a lioness large enough to devour homesteads in a single bite." Dedication to duty had usually kept her from giving into the boredom which plagued many deities. When she had been dispatched to the earthy realm, it was with specific purpose, typically savage retribution. "I find myself more limited in proportion now," she sighed wistfully, absently adjusting the knot in her plaid shirt before placing her hands on her hips. She missed the razing. She missed being big. "And my purpose be nursemaid to the Ennead's greatest shame. Name this our destination, great beast, for my need of drink grows urgent."

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"Pretty sure that doesn't count as 'mortal guise'," Teagan pointed out though her tone wasn't critical - in fact, she seemed downright sympathetic as she stepped into the building with her had over her shoulder. "It might not be as fun s setting them on fire, but devouring homesteads seems like a better--"

Both her sentence and her progress toward drink got stopped short by a pointed cough from just inside the door: just past their entryway stood a man whose tall, solid frame probably would have been a great deal more impressive when not stacked up against a combined twelve feet of muscled warrior. "IDs," he commanded, trying to look a bit larger.

Teagan snorted. "<Guess they got a guard - that's new. Wonder if he thinks you're too young?>"

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"<Too young for what?>" asked Sekhmet, jet black eyebrows rising in contrast with the kohl outlining her eyes in an almond shape. Context provided her answer but incredulity delayed realization for several moments. "<For fermented bread?! I present as no crone but neither a mewling babe!>"

Closing her eyes briefly and taking a deep breath through her nose while griping her pendant, the incognito goddess willed her temper to subside. A mortal thinking to bar her from any location was offensive enough but there had been a time when bacchanals far wilder than any she expected to find within this establishment were held in her honor. Being asked to justify her presence was adding insult to injury. "Hark, guardsman. Misfortune sees you cross my path on an eve of considerable irritation. My garments are not those I set out wearing and I carry not the hard, thin badges of your city-state." Crossing her arms below the knot in her newly acquired shirt, she made unrelenting eye contact with the bouncer and did her best not to grit her teeth too obviously. "Thy sense of duty is to be commended but I would encourage you follow the spirit of thy orders more so than the letter. I promise thee, whatever restrictions be in place I more than meet the requirements."

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The bouncer's bemused frown got deeper and deeper with every 'hark' and 'thy' and 'thee', and as he stood there listening to Sekhmet's protests one could almost hear the gears ticking in his mind as he weighed "possibly crazy" against "paying customers".

To his credit, he was at least able to keep the lioness' gaze until she'd finished. "....right. Does your friend have id?"

"No," answered Teagan, though she held up her wallet with a look of great impatience. "I have money."

"........fine," he finally conceded, with the voice of a man who'd given up on his day. "Don't be causing any trouble, now, and if the cops get you, I never saw you."

Teagan's muttered gratitude was only vaguely sincere as she half-pushed her way into the bar, tucking the wallet back into her new jacket. "Well, you worked that out," she admitted. "I was tempted to try to throw him through the door."

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"Such would be beneath thee, Teagan," Sekhmet scoffed at she followed behind the dragon woman, shuddering involuntarily and wrinkling her nose as the mixed scents of the drinking establishment washed over her more-than-human senses. "Begrudge the guardsman not his obligations. To judge by the betrayer's bodiless scribes, mortals have grown far more churlish than that on the whole." The bar was lit dimly enough that she had to catch herself to keep from lighting her sun disk. "Hrn. I must again rely on thee for guidance. The vendor is there behind the countertop?"

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"'Bartender'," Teagan supplied, leading Sekhmet toward the bar. "Tends the bar. Modern bars are one of the few things mortals got right; the atmosphere sucks but the drink selection in a good one can't be beat. A bunch of kinds of beer, wine, whiskey, whatever. Not some of the classics," she amended, wistfully thinking about real, good mead, the old-fashioned sort. Maybe she could just learn to make it. "But they made or found some new stuff to make up for it."

She gave Sekhmet a moment to take in the atmosphere - such as it was - and look over the bottles and signs around the bar before flagging down the bartender. "Me, I'm thinking whiskey and bitter beer."

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"Tis arranged much akin to the... 'Starbase' tea houses the liesmith enjoys," Sekhmet observed, narrowing her eye in the manner of a predator looking for weakness. "He favours a brew called espresso. Tis truly repugnant. I trust thy 'modern bar' be less so." The sheer number of bottles visible from their side of the counter was impressive but given her lack of familiarity with their various qualities the array of colours and shapes was daunting more than anything.

Not that she was about to let that show on her face, of course. Shouldering her way in to stand next to Teagan at the bar, the goddess set her jaw and did her best to ignore the melange of smells. "Very well. That sounds as good a place to start as any."

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"Hah! 'Start'. That's the spirit. And for the record, I make no promises of repugnance." Teagan rattled a quick order off to the bartender, who looked somewhat dubious until she dug some money out of her wallet and - with emphasis - thumped it onto the counter under two fingers. The tattooed woman on the other side of the bar counter was apparently not paid to care how much a pair of strange women were intending to drink as long as they had the money to back it up, and Teagan quickly had a few bottles and a couple glasses to carry off toward a table.

"Alright, so," she started, swinging a leg over her chair and pointing at the bottles in turn, "Beer. Pretty normal, but I like it bitter. Whiskey. Much stronger, burns a bit on the way down, it's great. And wine, which I'm pretty sure you know about already; everybody had some kind of wine, near as I could tell. Take your pick, goddess."

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Sekhmet slid gracefully into the seat around the table's corner from Teagan, crossing on shin across the opposite thigh and studying each of the bottles in turn with a weighing glare. Straightforward experimentation would have been the simplest way to determine the superior choice but anything but success on the first attempt rankled the goddess' nature. "Rrr... Very well. Of beers I have much experience; any mortal brew would suffer from unfair comparison. Let us then begin with your 'whiskey'. Potency if nothing else seems a virtue." Anything that a dragon considered to possess a notable heat seemed worth sampling, though the solar deity remained somewhat skeptical.

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"All the best virtues are vices," Teagan opined, grinning lopsidedly as she slid a couple of short glasses out of her bottle collection. "Or maybe that was the other way around. It sounded a lot more profound out of a dying philosopher."

Each glass got a generous portion of whiskey - perhaps far more than would have been necessary for a first taste under normal circumstances, but normal circumstances were for normal people and there was nobody matching that description at the table. "Pretty sure we're supposed to make some kind of toast at this point," she noted, picking up her glass, "but #### it. Drink up."

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"Consider the matter thoroughly ####ed," Sekhmet allowed gravely, picking up her own glass and giving the liquid within a sideways look for a moment before snorting once and tilting her chin back to down the entire contents in one smooth gulp. Almost immediately the goddess was coughing violently, pounding on her chest with one fist and leaving four parallel tracks in the wooden table with the claws that had momentarily replaced the fingernails of the other hand. Eyes watering, she attempted to say something but broke out coughing again, leaving her to simply point emphatically at her empty glass indicating it should be refilled with all due haste.

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Teagan was unable to refill Sekhmet's glass immediately, being far too busy laughing and nearly sending her own more moderate mouthful shooting up her nose.

She held up a placating hand as she got herself back under control, pouring the goddess a new glass while grinning ear to ear. "It's good, right?" she asked, laughing again as she set the bottle back down and took another drink. "I did that my first time, too. Hadn't had a burn like that since I was young and ate my own fire. You can get a pretty good buzz off it, too, after a while - well, I can, anyway. Dunno what it'll do to you; looking forward to finding out. I don't think I've seen a drunk god, might be fun."

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With a final few short hacks, Sekhmet shook herself like a cat rippling its fur after getting wet, a full body shiver that started from her brows and traveled down to her toes. "Hhk. Blessed Ra. Bracing." Her next sip from the glass was more measured and to her credit she had evidently taken the full measure of the whiskey's affect, swallowing without issue. "Rrr. At least thy intent be open, Teagan. I have learned that the only tale still told of Sekhmet is a humiliating episode involving an entire river turned to beer and dyed so as to resemble blood. True, I had... lost my temper at the time, but tis hardly a representative incident." The goddess' expression soured and she continued to make quick work of her second glass.

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