"Get me something strong and preferably sweet."
"Sorry, we don't serve minors here."
I raise my head up off the wooden surface of the bar just enough to glare up at the man behind it.
"Seriously? After everything I just told you, you're going to deny me even this?"
"Yep." Rodin indifferently replies.
My eyes narrow into a disbelieving glare.
"Look," I say in a low tone, "I don't like alcohol. I don't even like the smell to be perfectly honest, let alone the taste. But given everything I now somehow need to deal with, much of which I'm increasingly realizing I have next-to-no answers for, despite being the one entity who theoretically should have all the answers, I would very, very much like something to at least help me forget about my ever growing to-do list for a little while, no matter what specific method I have to take to get there. So please, if you can dig down and find even a single shred of sympathy for me; one solitary speck of kindness in that blackened heart of yours, just give me something."
My last three words echo in an unearthly manner, ringing out like dozens of different voices all speaking as one… then I slump back down, glasses pressing uncomfortably into the sides of my face, too mentally drained to care about putting up a front right now.
Maybe half a minute later, I hear Rodin set something down in front of me. Lifting my gaze again, I find myself staring at an incredibly intricate drinking glass that looks like it's been carved from a single solid piece of diamond. Swirling, beautifully-detailed patterns of gold and platinum filigree dance around its exterior, further complimented by the ring of stupidly-large gemstones set into the base, each one probably worth a small fortune on its own. It's by far the fanciest drinking glass I've ever seen; possibly the fanciest one that's ever even existed.
It's also filled to the brim with what appears to be chocolate milk.
I turn to Rodin and give him the most scathingly unamused expression I can manage, unable to even muster up the energy to tell him how utterly unfunny he is. Judging by the smirk now tugging at the corner of his mouth, he doesn't appear to share that opinion.
I sigh heavily. I suppose I'm lucky Rodin's at least in decent humor... though, that's possibly only because he's already gone a full week without having to deal with me. Apparently, time in the further reaches of Paradiso passes considerably slower than it does in the human world, likely because the concept of time was only ever meant for the human world in the first place — no mention of Aesir ever "seeing through Paradiso", after all. In fact, I'm fairly certain the only reason time exists in Heaven at all is because of those weird hourglasses that seem to have been scattered around the place at some point, which I've filed away as a topic of interest, but don't exactly feel like looking into right now.
I've got bigger things to worry about.
"My, what's this?"
I loll my head backwards, glasses nearly slipping off my nose, and spot Bayonetta strolling in through the front entrance, a bright green sucker clutched betwixt the fingers of her right hand.
"Rodin must truly be desperate for customers if he let you back in." she muses aloud as she approaches.
"Actually I doubt he really needs any more patronage, considering how often you seem to be here." I shoot back. "Tell me, besides buying lollipops and committing wanton slaughter of my angels, do you do literally anything other than frequent this bar?"
...and, for that matter, when exactly did I start mentally referring to them as "my" angels?
"Oh, this and that." Bayonetta replies as she joins me at the counter, leaning up against the section to my left. "I keep fairly busy. Being me is a full-time job in and of itself, you know."
I laugh humorlessly. "You know what, same here! Why don't we switch places for a day, and we'll see which one of us has more to do. How do you feel about trying to rebuild the moon?"
There's a pause.
"...ah yes, I do believe I remember hearing something about that." Bayonetta eventually says. "Jeanne might have mentioned it in passing."
Yeah, I'll bet she did, because Balder literally blew it up while attempting to stop Jeanne from preventing my revival, just so he could rain down minuscule pieces of it on her from the upper atmosphere in what has to be the least effective attack involving a planetary satellite I can even conceive of. I'm sure that the Moon suddenly no longer existing is having some pretty distinct effects on the human world as well, but more relevant to me at the moment are the ones it's having on Paradiso, because destroying the Moon in one reality also took out the "Translunar Faith Allocator" — that is, the angelic machine intended to collect the ambient faith and prayers of humanity at large, and continually distribute them across Paradiso.
Apparently, it was kind of important.
I groan and clutch at my temples, the task I so stupidly signed myself up for bearing down on me with all the weight of the very satellite I'm supposed to replace. Why did I agree to this before I knew what it even was...?
I pause in my dispirited musings for a moment as Rodin leans across the bar and hands Bayonetta a tall martini glass, neither of them having exchanged so much as a word with each other. The drink it contains is a vibrant purple, and while I have no idea what specific kind of cocktail is is, it's strong enough that I can smell the alcohol wafting off of it from several feet away.
"You know, some might consider this blasphemy." I grumble.
"You're sittin' in a bar with a demon and a witch. The fuck were you expectin'?" Rodin retorts, giving me no more than a half-second's glance before pulling a portable game console out of his pocket and turning his attention to it, completely ignoring the witch and deity still sitting at his bar.
Bastard.
Quiet falls over the room — Rodin apparently wasn't in the mood for a record today. Bayonetta wordlessly nurses her drink for a minute or two, eyes drilling holes in the side of my head all the while, before finally speaking up again.
"You seem rather stressed."
Something within me snaps.
"Ughhhhh, YES!" I lean back and whine, the numerous complaints I've rather rapidly been building up all starting to tumble out at once. "Being God has got to be the most paradoxically infuriating position in all of existence! My subjects are all utterly unhelpful, Paradiso's infrastructure is a joke, and I'm still stuck relying on this Me-damned eyeball just to keep myself going!"
"Thought you were gonna fix that." Rodin idly comments.
"I tried," I almost snarl, "but apparently, while I was stuck pondering the inside of my own eyelids for thousands of years, the heavenly host was busy re-purposing my celestial energy to power most of Paradiso's critical functions! They've made literal pieces of me into load-bearing structures, to the point that if I try to take any of them back, some aspect of Heaven essentially falls apart! What isn't being used in the Celestial Refinery is being used in the Immortal Forge, or the Elysian Workshop, or the Divine Information Aggregate, or some other pompously-named facility that's had literally all of history to become utterly reliant on having what amounts to a perpetual magic machine at the heart of its functionality, with absolutely nothing to fall back on! I'm starting to wonder why they even wanted me back in the first place, given they've replaced me in all but name!"
Bayonetta takes another long sip of her drink, the action doing nothing at all to disguise her amused expression.
"And now, because the sage supposedly working in my name decided it was acceptable to re-purpose a planetary satellite as ballistic material, I'm stuck with the task of repairing the heavenly facility that was previously attached to it." I continue, half lost in my rant. "Except, as things stand, I can't actually do that. Yet neither can I just ignore the problem, lest Paradiso be stricken with what equates to literal famine!"
Much as I wish it weren't so, Spes wasn't really exaggerating about how important the Translunar Faith Allocator was. If the energy at an angel's core is akin to water, then the portion of faith humans dedicate to the concept they embody is akin to food — without the constant influx of it they were previously receiving, angels all over Paradiso will begin to slow, exhaust themselves, and ultimately fade away. It won't be quick, but it will certainly happen, because for all that Heaven looks down on humanity, it will actively starve without them.
Moreover, since new angels can only be manifested through aspects of widespread faith, no one other than me can presently bring new species of them into being, leaving the Visus unable to proceed with roughly half of their primary duties. That's not as big of a problem, since it's not like we're in dire need of those right now or anything, but it still gives the Visus more reason to be dissatisfied with me, which is... unfortunate, at best.
"Still ain't sure why you ain't just handin' this off to someone else."
I glare at Rodin out of the corner of my eye.
"Perhaps because Heaven has been a bit short on angels that fit the qualifications ever since the most preeminent example jumped ship."
Still can't just become a "Master Celestial Artificer" myself, either. That information seemingly just isn't available to me, at least not through the Eye — possibly because of the usual suspect, but also possibly because it's just not something the Right Eye even knows. I'm starting to get the feeling that its "limited omniscience" peters out right about where Aesir's own gaze would have... in which case, perhaps I should be grateful the Eye knows anything about Paradiso at all.
"Also, if you'll hearken back to when I walked in here, all of... what, ten minutes ago? 'Handing it off' was the entire reason I came to-"
"I meant handin' it off to someone who still has reason to care." Rodin clarifies.
"Oh come on, please? You have to understand that I have limited options here!"
"And I ain't one of 'em." Rodin retorts. "Find yourself a Plan B."
"You were Plan B." I groan. "There's seriously nothing I can do to convince you?"
"Like I said, I only got one customer I work on commission for, and you sure as hell ain't her." Rodin reiterates, briefly inclining his neck in a smirking Bayonetta's direction. "Besides, even if I were willin', I doubt the rest of Paradiso would take too kindly to my return, 'specially for a project of the size you're describing."
"I'll force them to make an exception. Hell, I'd honestly be willing to outright reinstate-"
"You ain't gettin' it, girl." Rodin interrupts, his tone turning harsher. "Nice as it is to see you prioritizing something other than yourself, you burned your bridges with me a long-ass time ago. Don't matter if you remember it or not, 'cause I still do. And as I believe I already told you..."
Crimson flashes behind his glasses as he leans over the bar, right up into my personal space.
"I don't serve minors."
He slowly leans back.
"We clear?"
I blink, once, twice, my mouth slowly opening to plead my case one last time- then closing again as I think better of it.
"...yeah. Clear."
Evidently satisfied he's gotten his point across, Rodin nods and returns to his game.
Bayonetta, however, is apparently still feeling chatty.
"Purely out of curiosity, what was Plan A?"
I roll my eyes, propping my elbow up on the bar and allowing my right cheek to slowly sink into my palm.
"Oh, just yet another thing that the 'Embodiment of Divine Will' apparently can't actually do."
Or, more specifically?
Time travel.
I exhale, long and slow. It seemed like a simple enough solution when I thought of it — jump back to before Balder blew up the moon, swap it out with a dummy one, jump forward again and swap the real one back in. As it turns out however, manipulating time to that degree is one of the few things I'm likely truly incapable of... not that that's entirely surprising, considering a future me hasn't already shown up to lend me a hand. While I know it's not completely impossible, all major instances of time travel seen in the games were always done either at the behest of, or directly by some facet of Aesir, the creator of time itself. That some aspects of the concept are thus his and his alone to manipulate makes an unfortunate amount of sense, especially when time barely even exists in Paradiso, and Jubileus played no part in even that small amount.
...that said, you'd think that having access to the Right Eye would at least allow me some leeway in that regard. But, no, apparently even with a chunk of Aesir literally lodged in my skull, I cannot-
I scowl, mentally cutting off the additional confirmation of what I already know. I suppose it's not likely I'd have followed through with this plan anyways if major assistance from the Eye was required, given the soft moratorium I've set on further use of it for the moment. Despite my initial intentions to use its knowledge both sparingly and with caution, I've already managed to become way, way too reliant on Schrodinger's deific time bomb, which probably isn't a great idea even if it isn't doctoring the information it gives me. I can't really seem to stop it from answering certain unconscious questions, but I can certainly choose not to intentionally ask it anything else for the time being... even if refraining is only making me feel even more in over my head than I already did.
Bayonetta clears her throat, and I look over again just in time to see her slowly cross one leg over the other, the fact that she's standing up right now not really making the movement any less suggestive.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but shouldn't the 'Embodiment' in question have more than a single pair of options available to her?"
My answering smile couldn't be more plastic.
"You'd really think, wouldn't you? In fact, in theory, you'd think that the so-called 'Almighty Being' would have essentially infinite options, no matter how many constraints or limitations they're stuck operating under. In practice however, seeing as not one thing I've attempted in the past however-many hours has actually worked, this being is obviously far more imperfect and fallible than anyone would like to admit."
...and I can't change that.
I already tried.
A hint of grim amusement worms its way onto my face. Bayonetta is technically right though — there was, in fact, at least one other option. I just chose not to mention that, because my original "Plan B" entailed doing exactly what I'd previously been advised against, and contriving what amounted to a literal heavenly heist.
Once I actually considered the idea in depth without also asking the Right Eye's input, it honestly seemed silly I'd been resisting it this long. With a series of back-to-back teleports paired with continual use of God Speed, I see no realistic reason I couldn't take back every piece of celestial energy currently bound up in Paradiso, long before the angels could properly organize or object to my actions. Then, before the realm could consequently fall apart, I could simply snap my fingers and fix it — hell, with the totality of God's true power restored, I could snap my fingers and fix everything. I even went so far as to summon up a sort of internal divinity radar, theoretically capable of locating any pieces of said power that match the portion I already have, and quite deliberately made sure it wouldn't be reliant on the Right Eye to function, as a way to help ensure that Loptr couldn't somehow sabotage the process.
...except, turns out he may already have done exactly that! Because apparently, when the Right Eye told me that Jubileus's power was "scattered all over Paradiso", it failed to clarify that not ALL of it is actually there. So far as I can tell, roughly half of it is somehow completely MIA — as in, not only can I not locate it, but this time I don't even know why. It has to be somewhere; even mere fragments of infinite energy can't exactly just fade out into the aether, but even with an ability that does essentially nothing but relay the whereabouts of my own misplaced Godhood, nothing is turning up.
It's just... missing.
Hence my current state.
"That still seems a rather bizarre sentiment, coming from you." Bayonetta muses.
"Well, sorry to not be meeting expectations then," I mutter, "but that's still where I'm at right now."
Uncertain, unsettled, and seemingly unable to move forward on anything of actual importance.
Silence descends over the bar once more, and this time actually stays that way. In the absence of further conversation, I grudgingly reach out and take a small sip of my chocolate milk. I pull it away a moment later and glare, unreasonably annoyed by how good it is.
...fuck this is pathetic. Here I am with all- well, a good amount of the power and wisdom of God at my fingertips, and what am I doing? Sitting in a bar, raving like an underpaid office worker to a witch and a demon, neither of whom are likely to give even the slightest whit about me or my assorted issues. Either way, what right does God have to be holding a damn pity party?
I sigh again, the action starting to feel increasingly familiar on my lips.
Maybe I'm just not cut out for this...
After perhaps a solid five minutes of utter quiet, Bayonetta sets her now-empty glass down and abruptly straightens up.
"I think I'm going to go shopping today." she declares.
I squint at her. Ooooo... kay? Not really sure why she decided to announce that to a mostly-empty room, but good for her, I guess.
"You have fun with that." I say, turning back to the bar. "I'll just be here I guess, at least until I can come up with-"
"Oh no, you misunderstand."
Slim fingers grasp my arm from behind and tug it to the side, spinning me around to face the witch in question.
"You're coming with."
...huh?