Sitting amongst the rich green leaves, Phosphora rested her back against the thick, rugged trunk of an age old tree. The crooked bough upon which she dwelt extended far beyond her bared legs and the small, slender nubs of her toes, its bark a familiar skin against her own. In her hands she held a book she had grown quite fond of since it had fallen into her possession; it was one meant for young human children, depicting a thousand small tales. Each small sheet of parchment bore a multitude of words and a single image to accompany them, drawn by an unhurried and creative hand. Both the words and the pictures vied constantly for her attention, and she had lost many hours to the numerous fantasies an unknown author's hand spun for her pleasure.
Today was such a one where she had little intention to do anything but indulge herself in the many and now largely familiar stories. Between her commitments as the commander of the Forces of Nature and visiting Skyworld to see and spend time with Pit, she left little for simply herself. This was, in a way, her escape.
Coordinating the vast army whose troops dwelt not only in the Goddess Viridi's aerial fortress but also upon Overworld was often difficult and draining work, and though it sometimes made her feel a little guilty for thinking so, spending time with Pit could also sometimes be fatiguing in its own right. The angel possessed a boundless energy that she just could not keep up with at times. And so when she found the time, she retreated to the treetops and enveloped herself in their peace. Sometimes she would read; often she simply slept, and at other times she liked to watch the clouds pass by in their slow and languid way. And sometimes –
"I've told you more than once, Pittoo".
"What harm is there in it? No one is getting hurt".
"Are you deaf, or just stupid? I'm not soft like Palutena. When I say 'no', I mean it".
"So I'm supposed to just lounge around here all day? Perhaps stare at the clouds for countless hours?"
"Did I force you to come here? You came by your own choice".
"Then how about I just go? Here's an idea: you give me the Power of Flight, and I leave you to your misery".
"My misery? No, I have a better idea. I don't give you the Power of Flight and instead throw you off the nearest platform".
"How generous of you, Viridi".
"And I've told you about that before too! You and I aren't familiars; we aren't equal. Don't you dare call me by my name, Pittoo".
"Fine", Phosphora heard the angel respond in a tone dripping with annoyance as the feuding pair passed beneath her. "Forgive me for speaking out of turn, Your Royal Highness".
Phosphora pressed a hand to her mouth and stifled her laughter. She practically heard the Goddess grind her teeth as she growled deep in her throat.
Sometimes, the peace of the treetops was interrupted by the seemingly ceaseless bickering between Viridi and Pittoo. Phosphora knew few moments where she saw the pair together and they were not exchanging heated words.
It had surprised her greatly when the angel had asked Viridi if he could return to the Overworld along with them, rather than join Pit and Palutena in Skyworld. To her, the latter seemed like the obvious course of action and Pittoo's request had thus stunned both herself and Viridi into silence. She had been expecting the Goddess to refuse him but was instead served another healthy helping of surprise when she allowed him to come with them. The reasoning for both of their actions had eluded her for a time, and it was not until Pittoo had settled in upon Viridi's aerial fortress that Phosphora's attuned eye and ear allowed her to begin to understand what was at work.
"Phosphora! Get down here!"
She groaned inwardly as she heard the Goddess' call, covering her face with the book as she slumped in resignation against the tree trunk. She knew that she couldn't hide herself away from Viridi's eyes for too long; her aerial fortress resembled a vast forest seemingly uprooted from Overworld itself, and thus the Goddess knew it better than Phosphora ever would, familiar with every facet of its existence. With her argument with Pittoo apparently ended, Phosphora knew Viridi was about to vent some of her anger and frustration with him by loading her with work. Reluctantly, she snapped her book shut, swung her legs out over the edge of the bough she'd been sitting on and dropped gracefully to the ground below.
Pittoo regarded the passing clouds in silence as he lay back against the thick, wizened root of a tree, his hands serving as a rest for the back of his head. A soft wind, ever present so it seemed, stirred the hem of his black chiton and the strands of dark hair that fell across his brow. The dull red of his eyes wore a gaze of sharp intensity, as though he scrutinized the faults of each cloud that brought itself into his line of sight. That was not necessarily so, however; Pittoo always wore a look that was dwelling on the verge of severity. His mouth rarely curved with innocence into a smile, his lips more attuned with the motions required to produce a sneer or snarl. Pittoo knew few occasions where he would call himself 'happy'; instead, he knew what it was to be simply satisfied with the way of things, content with the manner of his existence.
The look on his face now was one of concentration; he had been trying to empty his mind, to rid himself of pestering thoughts that constantly drove him to wonder how he perceived his current circumstance. It was a foolish act, he realised, for to rid himself of such thoughts he had to focus upon them, and so inevitably he found himself doing exactly what he had intended to avoid.
Several months had passed since his brother had defeated Hades and brought about an end to the war with the Underworld. Upon its end, he had found himself faced with a choice; to make Skyworld his home, or to go his own way. It was a simple enough choice to make; Pittoo had endured enough of Pit's antics and mannerisms to last him a lifetime, and he felt no particular loyalty to his brother's Goddess. However, he no longer had his wings; Pandora had merely gifted him with the illusion that he had taken possession of her power, using him as a tool to further her own intentions and ultimately regain her physical form. His ability to go his own way as he was wont to do was severely hampered. To a point.
After Viridi had given him her own Power of Flight on several occasions and allowed him to borrow the Lightning Chariot from Phosphora's care in order to save Palutena and his brother, he felt that he owed the Goddess a debt. He had asked her if she would allow him to work in her employ for a time in order to pay it off, inwardly admitting that were he in possession of his wings, no such request would have come from his lips. She had been expectedly surprised, expectedly wary, and then expectedly triumphant about it. He had rolled his eyes to the point of pain as she remarked that he was barely worthy to offer her his service, but that she had of course been expecting him to offer it to repay her good deeds.
Days and weeks had passed and he knew that he had long since repaid the Goddess her deeds. When she called on him, he worked diligently – better than she had ever expected of him. She had not formally released him from the spoken contract between them, but of course there was just the small problem of him not having the means to take his leave. He had long since convinced himself that that was the reason he had stayed long beyond his unspoken term; he could have easily asked Viridi for access to transportation, but wished to rely on none other than himself. His nature simply demanded it. And so he remained, with each day growing less content; with each day hearing the voice of freedom softly mocking his predicament.
"Pittoo", the voice of Viridi called out to him.
He turned his eyes from the clouds to the tall portal that led into the innards of the aerial fortress. "Yeah?"
The Goddess emerged into the dull light of a day turning to dusk, her young, honey coloured eyes finding his. Her mouth was pressed thin and her brow wrinkling with the beginnings of a frown, but there still existed a hint of softness to her expression.
"I need you to do a favour for me", she told him as she drew close. "Phosphora's tied up at the moment".
Pittoo looked back to the clouds as she cast her shadow over him and shrugged. The Goddess took it for his acquiescence; she had grown familiar with his mannerisms.
"There's a unit of Blader unaccounted for on Overworld, and I need you to find out where they've disappeared to".
Pittoo sighed and arched his back, stretching until he heard and felt his spine pop satisfyingly. "Alright", he told her. "It's probably nothing more than them forgetting to check in with Phosphora at the allotted time".
"They aren't the brightest bunch, no", Viridi allowed.
Pittoo rose to his feet and glanced across at her, seeing her lips twitch with a smirk to accompany her remark. His own curved to match, if only for a moment.
"Well then", he said as he approached the edge of the platform, the Goddess walking at his shoulder, "let's get going".
He turned back to her when she did not immediately grant him the Power of Flight, finding her watching him with the light of expectancy sparkling beneath the surface of her gaze. He arched his brow.
"I am not my brother", he told her firmly. "If you think I'm going to do a song and dance for you just to give me wings, you can forget about it".
"Hmph", she said, turning her nose up at him and folding her arms. "I should make you grovel before I give you my Power".
"Right", he said tonelessly. "Perhaps another time".
And with that, he launched himself off the platform.
Viridi yelped in surprise, starting forwards with an arm outstretched as she hurriedly gave him the Power of Flight. His typical cackle floated through the air as she yelled violent promises at his diminishing form, black wings trailing light through the darkening sky. She of course never lost sight of him, watching over him fervently as he went to do her bidding. Their heated argument of but a few short hours prior was long forgotten, another tale lost to the winds.