GODS AT THE CENTRE ( EDITING)

CHAPTER I , IKAN: WORDS AND WARS.

He sat alone at the center watching the scene with apparent disinterest. Too much talking, much shouting, less sense to him.

He ignored the arguing men sitting upon the steps of the half amphitheatre around him.

He stifled a yawn with a clasp of his hand. He flexed his fair fingers, looking at them lovingly.

He was what his people would call light skinned, not as near milky as the Andorians that lived in the distant north, among the cities of plains, rather light brown and approaching a yellow hue.

He ran his hand across his head.
His hair line had receded, leaving the centre a bald. I'm not as young as I once was. He sighed.

He raised his eyes above the bickering men, to the high domed ceiling on which the Alamarian Pantheon spread out in painted colours of a mural.

Aoha, lord of the gods, tamer of lightning, he who first came and called, dwarfed other deities, as his form rose and spread as if to engulf the ceiling.

On his head, lightning formed a dazzling crown. Behind his head the sun formed a halo. His right hand bore his sword of creation which he had forged from the sun.
His jaw was hidden behind a great white beard. Looks godly enough.

He then turned to Idem, god of the seas. A whirlpool coming up to his waist, krakens and sea serpents were shown circling within the whirlpool. He bore miniature cyclones on his palms.

And there was Ania, across Aoha as always. Ania, the goddess of the earth was lay down with her back raised against a mountain side that was dwarfed by her form which was beautiful and awe inspiring. All around her plants grew and birds flew. He smirked a bit. Lovely.

He ran his eyes languidly over her wreath of flowers, her eyes deep and brown like the soil, her dress, a rich green like the gasses. She seemed to hold a palm branch languidly.

Lastly, he saw Ivaka, the fierce god of war and fire. He was captured in full armour, with his sword raised, his eyes blazed as his foot crushed the head of a subdued dragon, while his left hand held fire. Very fierce looking.

The four high gods spread from the edges of the dome towards the centre. Aoha from the east, Idem from the west, Ania from the south, Ivaka from the north, forming a circle, from which lesser deities proceeded.

The lower gods, the demigods filled the first ring that followed.

He spied Itan the god of luck as fat as always, flipping a coin and wearing a wreath of gold.

Borsos the hero demi god that had defeated the Iro monster, was riding a black steed, brandishing a sword just above Aoha. There he had been for ages. Why don't you ride off the ceiling? You have a horse! You must be bored of just staying there.

The ring that followed next was that of spirits. Beings not of the gods nor mortals: demons, all manner of beasts, spirits and ghosts of the ancestors long gone. The monsters of our stories. Not so scary on a wall.

And in the last ring, the very inner one surrounded by the vast realm of the unseen immortals were men shown as humble figures going about their businesses.

He watched the sacred pictures with growing disinterest, yawning in tiredness. Might have been amazing if I haven't seen it a million times already.

Then, he starred at it very deeply again, he had made a discovery.

Why were the humble humans in the eye of the painting, while the greater beings deviated from the centre of attention?