Goddess of Things That Get Stuck in Drawers. When someone rattles a drawer and cries “How can it close on the damned thing but not open with it? Who bought this? Do we ever use it?”, even though the person might be genuinely irritated or even exasperated, it is as praise unto Anoia. Faithful Anoians (worshippers of Anoia) purposefully rattle their drawers and complain every day. Anoia also finds objects that roll under other objects and things stuck in sofa cushions, and is considering when handing any household object that has broken down in some way. She eats corkscrews. She is in fact a powerful fae who found herself trapped on the mortal plane, and discovered that interfering with daily household life provided her with a small amount of power. She rarely appears, preferring merely to make her presence known by her great works, but when she does she is represented as a tiny human woman hastily wrapped in a white sheet, smoking a cigarette and cupping one elbow in the other hand. The cigarette never goes out. She is worshipped primarily by the common people, and in some interpretations is boringly considered a simple goddess of the hearth and home, but her true power is the ability to manipulate luck to ensure that the ladle falls just so, or the pin holding the door on the hinge breaks at just the right moment. Such minuscule power in comparison to the other gods seems almost laughable, but Anoia is both satisfied with her small following, and slowly gaining more power as the only deity within her domain. She herself is unaware of the extend of the power she could have, and perhaps this is for the best.
Anoia became a god entirely by accident, or divine intervention, however none know her true tale. She had a small home in a tree by a river in the fae, a lovely place all carved out inside with a raised bed and little window that let in morning light. She woke one day in a foul mood thanks to a noisy party the night before that had gone late, and wrapped herself in her bedsheets rather than dress. She attempted to make breakfast, but could not get the drawer open to get a spoon so she yelled and rattled the drawer until it popped loose and the spoon flew out and hit her in the head, knocking her back in to the dishes and breaking her favourite rose teacup. Dazed and angry, she stepped outside to have a cigarette and slipped on a rotten mushroom, sliding down the bank toward the river. She grabbed for a branch just as an oddly fat bird landed on it and it broke, sending her tumbling toward the river and unknowingly in to a small shift in the planes that had been created by her very annoying neighbour, the wizard Marley, who tended to play a lot of loud music and never clean up after himself or his guests (which is probably why she hit her elbow on that wooden ale mug on the way down) and he was always doing experimental magic which honestly, he should know better, never mind doing magic while under the influence, a dog knows that’s dangerous and just who does he think he is anyway with his pointy hat and robes with stars on them and his funny words and hand-waving, strange person that Marley, and when she fell through the portal she landed inside a giant’s house and isn’t that just a peachy way to start your morning. Not even time for a cup of tea. In was in fact, the home of a human family, who were reasonably kind to the strange, miniature, bedsheet-wearing woman who seemed to be able to create more smoke than should strictly be possible with one tiny cigarette, and slowly the family’s luck seemed to change in at first imperceptible ways, and the more kindness (and praise in the form of irritation at her pranks) they laid upon her, the more their small farmstead prospered. Anoia slowly spread her influence to the neighbouring houses (if only to stop them and their noisy parties as well, some of us like to get a good night’s sleep, thank you), and eventually discovered she could firmly lodge a ladle in a drawer many villages over. She is pleased with herself, surly, constantly in want of a proper cup of tea, and is utterly invisible to the other gods, which is how she’d like things to stay. She has a great deal of knowledge about all the other gods (being small, unknown and lucky makes an effective spy), but keeps it all to herself not wishing to become involved in their politics (or loud parties, gods are known for particularly loud parties, especially the war gods, and they never clean up after themselves). Anoia has no temples, but shrines on the hearth please her: these usually consist of a ladle, cheese grater or other household item, sometimes gilded or specifically made for this purpose, hung on the wall, with an ashtray underneath. When an Anoian wishes to beg the goddess’ favour, they will leave a nice cup of tea (rose-pattered teacups seem to please her most) there at night. Should they find the cup broken in the morning, they know they haven’t praised her sufficiently, and bad luck will follow. Her priests are wanderers, and are easily spotted by their bedsheets, eternal cigarettes, and the belt of household items dangling and clattering as they walk. They make their way from village to village, unsticking drawers, doing household repair, and never being quite satisfied with the tea. Anoians are known for their cooking skills and mastery of strange and arcane kitchen utensils (what on earth is a marmalade cutter?), as well as a deep and full vocabulary of creative curse words, which they use liberally. Her favoured time of worship is the time between waking and your first cup of tea and cigarette, and her symbol is usually a soup ladle.