A Playpen for a God

Construction on the new City of Worship began the following week, the demon builders lending their expertise to the architecture while Arista's crew handled the engineering, transport, and buoyancy, using the same proven system that had carried every rest stop safely to depth.

The central court and private sanctuary were built in transportable sections, but the tribute displays required a slightly different approach. The court itself would remain entirely open, broad enough for Squishy to move through comfortably and for mermaids to gather around him, while low shelves, stone plinths, and recessed alcoves would eventually define its edges without ever enclosing it.

Bram wandered through the finished display sections one afternoon, studying the varied shelf heights and the wide gaps between them before slowly turning toward Arista.

"...You're building him a playpen."

Arista looked up from her notes, unimpressed. "...I'm building him a tribute court."

"You're building a giant kraken a dedicated space to keep his shiny rocks and puzzle cubes in," Bram said, entirely unrepentant. "With shelves he can reach, room to move everything around, and enough open space for people to come visit him. That's a playpen."

"It's a sacred tribute court."

"It's a sacred playpen," Bram corrected, delighted with himself.

Arista opened her mouth to argue, then actually looked at the pieces scattered around them, shelves sized for tentacles rather than hands, alcoves ranging from small enough for a single polished stone to large enough for whatever strange object a future pilgrim might decide constituted suitable tribute, an entire center deliberately left empty because Squishy himself was meant to occupy it.

"...Okay," she admitted, laughing despite herself. "It's a little bit a playpen."

"A god's playpen," Bram said, thoroughly pleased. "I'm calling it that forever, regardless of how reverently you describe it to anyone else."

"You are not calling it that in front of Selen."

"I would never," he said, his expression suggesting otherwise.

When Selen came to review the finished sections later that afternoon, she surfaced in the shallows beside the beach while Arista and Bram brought the plans down to the waterline, the completed pieces spread out along the shore behind them.

Selen studied the varying shelf heights with quiet approval. "The oldest accounts describe Dryva moving offerings repeatedly until he was satisfied with where each belonged. Giving him room to arrange them himself feels appropriate."

Bram made a small, barely contained sound beside Arista, who elbowed him without looking away from Selen.

"...Something amusing?" Selen asked, glancing between them.

"No."

"Nothing at all," Bram added, entirely unconvincing.

Her suspicion clearly deepened, but she let it go without further comment.

"The court itself won't really exist until we reach the site," Arista continued, turning the sketch toward her. "Squishy clears the center, then we place all of this around him. Open enough for him to move through, but still organized enough that people know where tribute belongs."

Selen nodded slowly. "That follows the old tradition. Dryva was never contained within the city. He came as close as he wished, and the people gathered around him."

Arista smiled at that. "...The city gathered around him."

"Exactly."

Bram glanced back toward the rows of display sections, unable to resist one final word on the matter.

"...Still a playpen."

"Bram."

By the end of the week, every transportable piece stood finished along the shoreline. The central court sections waited beside the smaller private sanctuary and the modest pilgrim quarters, while the shelves, plinths, and alcoves were secured onto their own buoyancy platforms for the journey ahead.

Arista walked through them one final time while the builders checked lashings and sealed chambers. Broken apart like this, none of it looked especially impressive, but she could already picture the finished arrangement clearly enough, pilgrims arriving after six days of travel, Squishy settling into the open center, years of strange, shiny offerings slowly accumulating around him.

Bram stopped beside her, studying the same scene.

"...You know he's going to fill those shelves with complete nonsense."

"I know."

"Rocks. Broken things. Puzzle cubes."

"Probably."

"Anything shiny."

"Definitely."

"And rearrange all of it constantly."

Arista smiled at that particular certainty. "...That's why they're there."

By late afternoon, both ships were ready, the City of Worship floating behind them in carefully divided sections. As the shoreline began to recede, Arista rested her arms against the railing, watching it shrink into the distance.

"...Let's go build Squishy his playpen."

Bram turned toward her immediately, mock-alarmed.

Arista closed her eyes. "...You heard nothing."

"I heard everything."

The journey to the dome had become familiar enough by now that nobody treated it like an expedition anymore. Nettle's ships followed the established route with the City of Worship's sections trailing behind them, while Selen and her two companions traveled through the water alongside the convoy the whole way.

Once they reached the site, Selen cast Water Breathing on the crew and refreshed Tidal Tongue over the group so they could follow the final placement themselves instead of waiting at the surface, renewing both as needed while the work continued.

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Squishy began with the tribute court. One massive tentacle swept across the seabed, clearing loose silt and smoothing the broad central area Arista had deliberately left open. Once he was satisfied, the crew released the first display section from its platform, and Squishy lowered it into place, followed by the next, building the court outward around an empty center large enough for him to occupy comfortably.

"...He's making the playpen," Bram said, watching with obvious satisfaction.

Arista shot him a look.

"What?" Bram said.

"You know exactly what."

Squishy's rings pulsed once as he adjusted one of the shelves nearby, and Bram nodded toward him immediately.

"...See? He agrees."

"He cannot hear you."

"Spiritually, he agrees."

Arista chose to ignore that entirely.

The ceremonial court followed, Squishy positioning each section with the same care he'd shown at every rest stop, backing away more than once to inspect the alignment before returning to shift something by an almost comically small amount.

It was during one of those adjustments that Colm glanced toward the dome.

"...We've got an audience."

People had begun gathering behind the nearest glass panels, only a handful at first, but more arriving steadily as word spread, players and NPC residents alike making their way toward the same section of the dry city to watch the construction taking place outside. Children pressed closest to the glass, faces bright with curiosity.

"...This is considerably more publicity than the first rest stop got," Claire observed, watching the growing crowd.

"The mermaid race exists now," Arista said. "People actually know what all of this is for."

Near one panel, a young boy had both hands pressed against the glass, staring at Squishy with complete, unfiltered fascination. Selen noticed him first and drifted closer, studying him for a moment before reaching out with the same private connection she'd once used with Arista alone.

...Would you like to see him more clearly?

The boy jumped, glancing around wildly. "...Who said that?"

I'm sorry. I did not mean to frighten you. I am one of the mermaids outside.

His gaze darted across the water until it found her.

"...You?"

Yes.

The boy's eyes went wide. "...Can you hear me?"

Yes.

His father looked down at him, visibly puzzled by half a conversation he clearly wasn't part of.

"...Is that the octopus?" the boy asked aloud, the same question reaching Selen through the connection at nearly the same moment. "The one from all the stories now?"

Selen glanced toward Squishy fondly. "That is Squishy. Though his true name is Dryva."

"...Dryva," the boy repeated, testing the unfamiliar word, while his father's frown deepened slightly beside him.

"...He built the dome, right?"

"He helped build it, yes."

"...Is he nice?"

Selen smiled. "Very."

The boy stared past her toward the giant kraken, delighted. "...I want to meet him."

"Perhaps one day," Selen said, gentle. "Once the pilgrimage is running properly, and my people are comfortable with visitors coming this close. Carefully. With permission."

The boy's whole face lit up. "Dad! She says I might be able to meet the giant octopus!"

His father stared down at him. "...Who says?"

"The mermaid." The boy pointed through the glass, entirely matter-of-fact.

Selen raised one hand politely toward him, and the man slowly waved back, clearly unsure what part of the conversation he'd actually missed.

The boy immediately turned back toward her. "...Does he like fish?"

"Yes."

"...What's his favorite?"

Selen paused, apparently finding that question required more thought than she'd expected.

The conversation continued from there, the child making no distinction whatsoever between thinking his half of the exchange and saying every word aloud, a steady stream of questions arriving through both channels at once. By the time Selen finally returned toward the construction site, the boy's father looked mildly disturbed, watching his son carry on an enthusiastic conversation while no answering voice could be heard at all.

Bram glanced toward Selen as she rejoined them. "...Make a friend?"

"He had many questions."

"Children usually do."

"He wishes to know Dryva's favorite fish."

Arista looked toward Squishy, considering. "...Do we know that?"

"No," Bram said, then considered the problem for a moment. "...Critical research gap."

Arista laughed, glancing back toward the glass, where the boy was still waving enthusiastically. Selen raised a hand in return before turning back to the others.

"...Your world is growing rather fond of him," she said.

"He's easy to grow fond of," Arista said, watching Squishy make one final adjustment to the ceremonial court. "He always has been."

The audience remained long after the novelty should reasonably have worn off, watching section after section settle into place around the enormous kraken they'd been designed to accommodate. By the time only one piece remained, surprisingly few of them had left.

The final piece went into place later that afternoon, Squishy holding the section motionless for several seconds while he studied its alignment with one enormous eye. He shifted it slightly to the left, then back again.

Bram folded his arms, watching. "...He's worse than you."

"I don't do that."

Claire looked at her.

Arista frowned. "...I don't do it that much."

Squishy finally released the section and drifted back, rings pulsing slow and satisfied.

Arista looked over the completed City of Worship for the first time. The ceremonial court stood open toward the sea, sized for the modest pilgrim schools that would actually use it rather than the population the ancient city had once served. The private sanctuary sat slightly apart, while the tribute court spread beside both of them, broad and open at the center, shelves, alcoves, and stone plinths waiting patiently around its edges.

Bram followed her gaze. "...Playpen."

"Don't ruin this."

"I'm not ruining anything. He likes it."

Squishy drifted into the open court as though determined to prove him right, inspecting the nearest shelf first, tracing its edge with one tentacle before reaching toward one of the deeper alcoves with another. Slowly, he worked his way around the perimeter, testing the different heights and spaces, rings brightening each time he found another section clearly built around his own scale.

The arrangement finally made complete sense with him inside it. Mermaids could gather around him without crowding an entrance or remaining at a distance, while Squishy could receive tribute, inspect it, rearrange it, and stay entirely in the open water instead of trying to fit inside a structure that had never been meant to contain him.

Selen watched in silence, her two companions drifting closer beside her. Squishy settled near the center, rings pulsing slow and warm.

"...He says the space feels right," Selen relayed, her voice unsteady.

Arista smiled. "...Good."

Squishy reached toward one of the empty plinths, touched it, then looked pointedly toward Selen, who paused before laughing softly.

"...What?" Arista asked.

"He wishes to know when the first tribute will arrive."

Arista stared at him, incredulous. "...We finished thirty seconds ago."

His rings pulsed again, insistent.

"Apparently that is irrelevant," Selen translated, clearly fighting her own smile.

Bram folded his arms, delighted. "Should've known better than to build a playpen without toys."

Arista covered her face briefly with one hand. "...Fine. We'll find him something."

Behind the dome glass, the audience still lingered, watching Squishy explore the court while Selen and her companions moved through the completed ceremonial space. For a while, Selen said nothing at all, simply drifting toward the center of the ceremonial court and looking around slowly.

"...It is finished," she said at last. "The ring. The passage. The places to rest. The journey itself." Her gaze moved toward Squishy. "The destination."

Arista felt something tighten in her throat. "...Yeah."

Selen turned back toward her. "My people can make the pilgrimage again."

That was the part that landed hardest.

The ancient City of Worship still remained beneath its sealed dome, carrying the history of the people who had built it, while Squishy still had his own home in the deeper water nearby, now considerably more comfortable than it had been before Arista gave him an enormous pillow. What they had built here was simply the new end of an old journey, five rest stops across the seabed, a safe passage through the boiling ring, and a place where Dryva's people could gather around him again, leave tribute, celebrate their arrival, and stand close enough to their god that glass and generations no longer separated them.

Arista looked over the finished court. "...Then I guess we're actually done."

Bram glanced toward Squishy, who was still studying his empty shelves with obvious expectation. "...He's not."

"No."

"He's going to want those filled."

"Definitely."

"Immediately."

Squishy's rings pulsed brightly, right on cue.

Arista sighed. "...Tomorrow."

Another pulse, no less insistent.

"Tomorrow," she repeated, firmer this time, and Selen laughed at the exchange.

Behind the glass, the boy from earlier was still pointing excitedly toward Squishy, his father still looking faintly uncertain about the entire situation. Arista watched them for a moment, then looked back across the finished City of Worship and let herself enjoy the simple fact that, this time, there was nothing left to build.

Bram smiled. "...Nice playpen."

Arista looked at Squishy, then at Selen, and finally let herself simply agree.

"...Yeah," she admitted, smiling. "It's a pretty good playpen."