When the doors refused to budge at her shove, the sun's malicious judgement glaring down at her, her eye narrowed into a slit as she stared up at it. Fuck you, too, was the silent, sneering thought cast upward at the doors. They didn't seem to be locked; at least not by a conventional method. Had they been, there would have been resistance that would have revealed them to be barred from the other side- or at least the clattering of a device holding the entrance-way shut. With an irritated growl, she lifted both hands and shoved against the door one more time, to assure herself that she hadn't neglected to notice the resistance of the door being barred from the other side; hadn't overlooked the sound of a clattering chain, hadn't overlooked the resistance of a more conventional lock. Satisfied that she hadn't failed to notice any such thing, she stepped back and peered up at the door.
Fire can make steam and force water to boil... but this is fire on the ocean, not a pot over a fire, She pondered, glaring up at the alien-visaged gryphons that were guarding either the flames or the water beneath; gryphons were creatures of flight, Air? No... that isn't right, they aren't flying. I don't know if Earth has anything to do with it; if nothing else works, I'll come back to that idea. A low, thoughtful sound rose from her throat, becoming a groan of vague annoyance. Perendi was horribly unschooled in the realm of the more esoteric arts; a woman of the blade, not sorcery- and the alien landscapes and figures that directed visitors down the hall to those doors didn't seem too willing to reveal their secrets.
Fire is the domain of the sun, but water is controlled by the moon. Does the sun need to go out for the moon to rise, or does the fire need to dry up the water? What about the gryphons, though- what are they guarding, the fire or water? Dammit... what if it's just another word game? Well... I've got water, which puts out fire, so I suppose I might as well try that first. If it doesn't work, there's other things to try. Pulling her water-skin from her belt with a shrug, she popped it open and approached the door again, Good thing it's just me, this is a damn stupid idea. Hoping that there wasn't just a disguised lever or button hidden among the engravings, she began splashing the flames that she could reach with the water in that skin; when the container was nearly empty, she'd toss it upward toward the image of the sun, trying to make sure that her aim was true enough to hopefully splatter it a little.
She would then backpedal a few steps once again, just in case it really was that simple- though she doubted it would have been. It didn't matter to her how long it would take to get those doors to open; she didn't think it could have been close to even noon yet- or that time worked properly here.
Son of a whore, She thought, glaring up at the cryptic bas relief on the door. All she'd succeeded in doing by attempting to extinguish the flames had been to splash the door itself, as well as the brightly-polished floor. Roaming back through the hall revealed little to Perendi that she could understand-- the grotesqueries, coupled with the beauty of how the images had been engraved were a stark contrast; beauty and horror, simplicity and opulence. And yet, there were messages that could be seen there; if only she were capable of grasping the concepts behind what she was looking at. The same could be said about the duality of the engravings on the doors, though those were marginally easier to fathom.
However, that did not eliminate the desire to find something to simply bash the doors in with; there was no battering ram to utilize in order to assault the barriers. Frustration was causing her to pace like a caged animal- and at last, her feet carried her to the doors again before she'd realized that she'd changed the direction she'd been walking in. Time? No... I don't think that's quite right. Not size, either. Beasts and people, but they're not fighting; nothing is truly being destroyed. They're all looking at the door, heading toward it. Then, there's those gryphons, the flaming water... An irritated kick was aimed at the bottom of the doors, doing nothing but rousing a loud bang to reverberate through the hall. Wealth, prestige? That can't be it, either. Not nightmares, not dreams. "Peace, rest, guidance... pilgrimage," She didn't realize that she'd begun to voice her stream-of-consciousness thoughts aloud; "Immortality, strength, power." By the time she'd finished that verbal tirade, the mercenary was left gasping for breath and trembling, blood trickling from parted lips as she slouched against the doors, waiting for the dizziness to pass; ineffectively banging a fist against one of the doors. If that's not it... Something told her that she was probably grasping at shadows, though she couldn't be certain one way or another.
...Until nothing at all happened, once again. Once the dizziness finally subsided, she unhooked her liquor flask from her belt, unscrewed it and gulped several mouthfuls of the cheap rum; throat spasming in protest even as the blood was washed away; her breathing finally becoming even again as the bright, wavering swirls of light that had threatened and taunted to knock her on her ass subsided. Refastening the flask to her belt, a soundless laugh was pantomimed at her predicament- and yet, it was nothing more than a puzzle. She'd successfully survived nightmarish experiences before, had completed a few truly harrowing retrieval missions, slain truly deadly adversaries, there was no way that a riddle was going to lead to a defeat- no matter how long it took to solve.
While she continued to try and unravel the mocking imagery that stretched out before her and to either side, her mind drifted back to a conversation that she'd had last night. A derisive snort was given as she stopped assaulting the door. Beasts -even noble ones such as gryphons- people and nightmares, deities and demons, even elements in opposition have something in common. Some people think the moon goddess is a creator, a mother.
"Destruction," That single word was more of a thick, pained, hoarse rasp of a groan; swaying on her feet for several long moments as her vision swam yet again; the fluid shadows beneath her skin swarming upward to grasp at her throat and higher- this time, rising to envelope her chin and lower jaw as well, before separating into long, thin, searching, intangible tendrils that grasped at her cheekbones- she was pushing herself toward her limitations for speech; that pressure increasing substantially, throat and vocal cords shredding themselves as she slouched heavily against the wall nearest the door, forced to breathe shallowly through clenched teeth, one arm rising to mop sweat off her forehead. All she could do once again was try and wait for the warning assault to pass; wait to see if she'd progressed at all.
When nothing happened again, she had to admit that there was something vaguely amusing about the whole situation. Apparently, this nameless deity wasn't quite nefarious enough to be known as a force of destruction; so that likely eliminated the thought of death as well- which, by proxy, made her believe it wasn't even a god of her own element, which was war. Alright... I know it's also not going to be anything such as farming, hearths, fortune, trickery. Perhaps I'm not even supposed to figure out what kind of god it is? I do know what they say gods are known for. "Wisdom," Was the single word that she rasped; grinning in defiance against her own curse, cheekily at the challenge of opening the door, even as another spasm seized her throat. If that's not it, I'm burning this place.