Nescio (5)

NESCIO (5)

The priestess - the oracle - woke in a rage. 

She'd abstained from the bottle for what seemed like an age.  (At least forty-eight hours since she'd cracked open a wine and, so long as she slept, she sort of felt fine.)

But, she ached when she stood and was now pissing blood. Her ankles and belly were swollen. She cursed those idiot gods, for it was they who had stolen her beauty and youth.

And, for what?

(Long time ago, she had struck a deal. Foresee the future, but, cease to feel. The deal she'd cut had long lost its appeal.)

And, so, the brother and sister - so close to each other - began to play on her mind. (She'd negotiated prescience in place of being kind but now, starkly horribly, she saw her mistake. It's clever to be able to speak the future, but you should never lose sight of what's at stake: the tragedy of living in the present.)

She began to devise a plan. She would dare to intervene. The gods were known to be vengeful (and the priestess was prone to being forgetful) but, if she could just keep her eye on the ball perhaps, then, she could still save them all . . .

She prised opened a can of alcohol-free beer with her teeth.