Meni

Athenaeum entry. Correspondent of record: Vel Asharen. Sources: the Church of Meni's standing publications; field observation of three separate collections, attended at the subject's invitation.

Form

Six feet and five inches of obsidian skeleton, fractured throughout and mended in gold. Every crack — and there are many — is filled with gleaming metal worked so deep into the bone that they are no longer separable. By Meni's own brief statement on the matter, the fractures do not weaken him. The Athenaeum confirms this. They are also, this correspondent notes, the wealthiest thing in any room he enters.

He wears a black cloak, heavy, clasped at one shoulder by a silver brooch in the shape of a closed eye. Violet light burns in his sockets. When he looks at you, an inventory is being taken — not cold, not hostile, simply accurate. He sees exactly what is there. The correspondent has been subject to this gaze and recommends preparing for it.

Domain

Meni does not oversee death. He is it. By his own assessment, the distinction matters less than mortals expect — he finds the debate philosophically interesting but has not changed his mind in some time.

Every soul that has ever lived eventually pays him: in coin left on tongues, in burial goods, in gold pressed into palms by mourning families, in offerings at altars spanning every civilization that has ever prayed at a grave. The tribute worked its way into his bones over time until he and the wealth are the same thing. He is the accumulated weight of every death that has ever occurred. He does not particularly think about this. The Athenaeum's standing analogy: a river does not think about the water.

He attends every collection personally. No attendants, no delegates, no ambassadors. He has stated, on the record, that he finds the notion of outsourcing this work incoherent. To mortals he is everywhere at once; to him, every collection is unhurried. Each one receives his full attention. This correspondent has confirmed this by direct observation at three collections, all of which were calm and orderly.

A pact with Meni is a meeting in a quiet room, a long conversation, and a signature in ink that isn't quite ink. He conducts them personally and never through intermediaries. By any reasonable Athenaeum accounting, he is the richest god in the pantheon. He has no use for any of it. The Athenaeum does not dispute the framing.

Worship

The Church of Meni is a formal, organized religion with cathedrals built of dark stone and violet stained glass, ordained clergy who officiate at funerals, last rites, and the sanctification of burial grounds across most civilized regions. Every altar bears a single black candle that burns without smoke. The clergy wear black robes clasped at one shoulder, an echo of their god.

His sway runs deepest among morticians, hospice keepers, soldiers before battle, the elderly, and those who think seriously about what comes next. His cathedrals are among the most architecturally significant buildings in most major cities the Athenaeum has surveyed. They are not grim places. They are quiet ones.

Mortals fear him less than they fear his attention. How he greets you on the other side is something you only learn once you arrive. This correspondent cannot confirm or deny.

Relationships

Krorus — A friendship of long standing, conducted mostly in comfortable silence. Krorus slows time around him during soul collections. Meni appreciates this without making it a conversation.

Aerith Soln — She fusses over him. He tolerates it with the patience of someone who has been tolerating things since the beginning of death, which is to say: indefinitely. Their ongoing squabble over returned souls is the longest professional disagreement in the history of the pantheon, by the Athenaeum's records. Neither of them considers it unresolved.

Noil — A working relationship. Noil's children produce a steady and reliable workflow. Meni appreciates consistency in a collaborator.

Korin Soln — She tries, repeatedly and across great spans of time, to get him to play favorites or break his own rules. He declines, politely, every time. She has not given up.

Cindy — His companion. A crow that freezes everything she perches on. She rides his shoulder during collections in dignified silence. The moment they are alone, she demands her chin be scratched. He obliges. This correspondent has observed this exchange directly and considers it the single softest thing about him. He does not pretend otherwise.

Lobelia — Asked once about her in passing, he said only: "Oh, her? I should make time to see her again soon." He usually does.

Tindrel — Fears him at a remove. Tindrel fears Krorus directly; Meni inherits a portion of that fear by association. Meni has never met Tindrel and, by the correspondent's standing impression, has not asked to.

Vaerith — Carries the souls of those lost at sea to Meni's threshold personally. The arrangement was Vaerith's offer. Meni accepted it without comment and has not, in the centuries since, found cause to revisit the courtesy.

Thurim Ironwake — Quiet professional respect. The obsidian that mends Meni's bones came from Thurim's domain originally. Meni has, by Rinqash clergy account, once nodded slightly at a particularly well-made ingot offered at the threshold.

Saessa — Distant but cordial. He attends the collection of her warlocks personally; she meets him at the threshold with composure. Neither has ever attempted more.

Veshen — Their work overlaps at every autumn harvest, when the year's old close down together. They are companionable about it. Neither speaks much.

See Also

• _Pantheon Index
• Aerith Soln
• Krorus
• Noil
• Korin Soln
• Cindy
• Lobelia
• Tindrel
• Vaerith
• Thurim Ironwake
• Saessa
• Veshen
• Yggdrasil World System

— Vel Asharen, The Interplanar Athenaeum