Prayer Box

[fromthefog]

This is a place to send your prayers to the Fog god. She may not always respond, or she may respond in ways you don’t expect, but she is always listening.

Speak, she hears you.

OOC note: As of April 2020, threads with the gods will be capped at three NPC replies! Please keep this in mind when writing god prayers to make sure you get everything you need out of the thread. It’s also possible to handwave prayers by titling your comment HANDWAVED PRAYER. Handwaved prayers lack our usual flourish, but you can expect a faster response!

As of February 2024, god prayers will be handwaved only. Please only submit a prayer if you have a question for either god which needs answering in order to progress your character's arc within Ryslig. If this is something you need to tier up within the god boon system, or just to set up a player plot in general, please don't hesitate to submit a prayer about it! You may shorten it down to an OOC summary of what your character is asking. This will allow any of our helper mods to reply much faster, without having to dig into the specifics of either god's personality/writing quirks. Should this limitation be lifted again in the future, this note will be removed.

Comments

[affluenza]

Dear Fog God:

Thank you for bringing me here. This is the only place I've ever felt like I belong. And I hated being a boring old human, anyways. I have a lot of friends here. I'm kind of worried that once they find out what I'm really like they'll hate me just like everyone else. Only a few of them are real monsters like I am.

But...I guess it doesn't really matter of some of them hate me. Because you love me.

Right?

[fromthefog]

[When Dandy sleeps that night, he will feel as if there is a grasping darkness wrapping him up.

Instead of constricting, it feels comforting.

It will hold him in place until he wakes, and when he wakes it will be as if he has awakened rejuvenated.

She cares for her toys.]

[soundsurfing]

So uh, aint sure if yer really listenin' or not, but... yer the one that brings peeps right? Do they leave cuzza you too? Do they go home?




Couldchu bring some back...?

[fromthefog]

[It's as if the wind itself seems to answer. No matter where he is when his prayer is spoken, inside or out, it seems to follow him, curling around him and drifting through his hair, like someone petting his hair.

There is no clear answer, but she is listening.]

[eventhandler]

I feel torn. I shouldn't feel this way, I shouldn't be praying, I-I'm...not, no, not a praying man at all. Facetious really. But you've...I feel you in my mind. Hovering. Waiting. I thought I could keep you at bay, and...

The Transistor. No, that's...it's more important. It is. But you are important too, and I have...am I weak? What has happened with me? I can't allow myself...and yet I can. You're always there. Always...

Why is this happening?

[fromthefog]

[It’s likely hard to hear, at first, and then it grows. Tiny whispers of his name, from all sides, in many variations, as if he’s surrounded, though it’s all the same voice.

Her voice.

From behind, he will hear her again.]

There is no reason to resist.

[ It will feel as if there is a careful hand at the back of his neck. Long thin fingers that cannot be seen.]

I will take care of you.

[And then, as if she was never there, she is gone.

She will be in his dreams for the next few nights, reminding him of her love, and reminding him to go to Dyster. It will be better there. There will be no doubt, if he stays there.]

[finewithhalf]

Thank you for taking care of everyone during the attacks. I'm sorry I couldn't keep them in Dyster.

I think it's Farkle. He's so stubborn sometimes... He thinks you're bad for us. He says I'm changing because of you.

But I know how important it all is.

I know you're the one who needs help. That's why you called us up here, right? We're going to save you from the humans. There's only so much you can do while you're helping us get strong. But I know you're doing everything you can.

I keep trying to tell everyone. I don't know how to make them believe me, though.

But every time I need someone, you're here. You know how much it means to me.

So thank you.

Thank you for everything.

Thank you for taking care of the ones who don't understand yet.

I'll make them love you too.

[fromthefog]

[That night, when Maya sleeps, something reaches out for her in the dark.

It's fingers are long and spindly, dark hair hides it's indistinguishable face, it's arms are thin and long. It grasps her face with both hands. It's fingers are cold as ice, but Maya will adapt almost immediately, like mint or a clear stream in winter, refreshing rather than harming.

In tiny flickers Maya will see Dyster reborn, her friends all around her, and all of them safe and clearly happy. Instead of humans, there are monsters, and they all seem to worship in her name. And there is Maya, happy, powerful, clearly loved, and in the center of it all.

Then in repeating whispers she will hear her voice.]

Teach them to love me, and you will have it all.

[The figure will lean forward out of the dark, and Maya will feel the press of a kiss into her hair.

That same ice feeling will wash over her and wake her.

You know what to do.]

[fairlycapable]

I searched everywhere there. Every house, every street, and you didn't stop me. Your people even told me she wasn't there, as soon as I entered. But you never stopped me.

If I had listened, I wouldn't have stayed there! I would have been gone-how could you know I wouldn't snap that key when I left?

You brought everyone here. For war, for battle, didn't you? You whispered those things when these changes first began, and others heard you laugh.

Why?

What do you see in any of us? Especially after what just happened-you warned us, and we failed!

So why do you care that we are brought here and not broken? With what everyone says, wouldn't it benefit you more for those here to hate us?

What use do we have to you, other than amusement?

[[OOC - Side note; Yuuri's referring to how she's signed on with the Fog, she had someone let her into Dyster before searching the entire city for a castmate that recently dropped.]]

[fromthefog]

[Yuuri's answer comes in the form of a dream.

The dream is as if she is in Dyster, made lovely, the buildings barely recognizable in their beauty. The city reborn, and Yuuri in this dream is as she was when she arrived in Ryslig.

And as soon as she has realized where she is, she will feel thin hands on her shoulders. The fingers impossibly long and their touch is like ice, though it grows more mild in time, growing used to it. Her voice repeats and layers against itself, like she's speaking from multiple places at once.]

I saw you as you are. And you as you could be.

[Her fingers drum once, and then the vision of Dyster flickers out into nothingness, and Yuuri is once again in the form she now has. Instead of behind Yuuri, the figure is in front of her now, hidden in the dark and barely visible. It's hands reach out again, and take one of hers. It's face is hard to see, long hair hiding it's face.]

You are mine, and so I take care of you.

[The dream will end, and Yuuri's hand will remain cold when she awakes.]

[soundsurfing]

[This isn't a prayer, not this time.]

I know yer listenin' yo but I dunno if you got the network watched cuz it's his, but if you don' then peeps are trying to rally to come after you. I'll kill as many as 'em as I can, I promise you that, but I'm jus' one an' there were like, lots of 'em.

[Oh yeah he's brainwashed like mad.]

[fromthefog]

[Prayer or not, she's listening. She's always listening. She always listens.

It settles and breathes around him when he's out, with the stars like cold eyes above him, and the natural world like so much papercraft shadow puppetry around him. It starts in a gust of wind, stirred up in the cold air. It presses against him in ways wind should not, pressure along the back of his head and moving forward. It feels like a hand, with cold fingers combing through his hair like it were so much fur. The trees around him shake with it, their limbs sharp, dead things, rattling like a cup full of chipped bones and broken teeth.

Her laughter fills the night, yet is only there, pressed against his ear.]

Do not fear for me.

[It is the chiding of one who towers over. Before him, a tree strains, groans from deep in its trunk from the wind, and a great and powerful bough snaps rough from its trunk, splintering bark scraping against the sky.]

They take up blades of grass and think them steel.

[The sound of the wind dies away, but the motion of it does not. The night draws in close, silent. Distant landmarks seem nearer in his eyes. The world becomes close, and not even the pests of night speak in the silence.

She speaks.]

But my unruly children should not be left so bold. Discipline them as you will. And for their leader... He will understand his folly. Or...

[Is that her laughter, or is it only the sound of his own pulse in his ears?]

My favored child... do you wish to decide his fate?

[wallaroundtheworld]

[ He can't believe he's doing this, but he needs answers. ]

...erm....salutations, I suppose. I dreamt that you granted me the power I yearned for when I was in Vandare, and I must know...is it truly possible? Can I see the world from above as I once did?

[ Why does he even bother? Wishes rarely come true here without some terrible price. He presses on anyway. ]

What must I do to achieve this? Where should I go?

[fromthefog]

[It will happen when he is in the water. It’s likely hard to hear, at first, and then it grows. Tiny whispers of his name, from all sides, in many variations, as if he’s surrounded, though it’s all the same voice.

Her voice.

From behind, he will hear her again, but can never seem to locate her. It is not distorted.]

You could, if you continue to serve me.

[An invisible hand runs in his hair, and touches his back, leaving a feeling of cold and uneasiness.]

I will watch over you.

[An urge to look over to the left, and gently floating in the water is a key.]

Turn this in any door, and you will find those who worship the ground you walk on, if you continue to serve me.

[And then, the waters grow silent again.

She will be in his dreams for the next few nights, reminding him of her love, and reminding him to go to Dyster. It will be better there. He will find people to aid him there.]

[soundsurfing]

... What was that? That vision. Why aint we s'pposed to see it...?

[soundsurfing]

ANSWER ME DAMNIT, I KNOW YER LISTENIN', WHAT'S GOIN' ON! You the one tellin' them to eat their foes to get more powers?! Why!? Whose Berget Stora?!

Fuckin'... answer me, yo!!

(Back to when the Hunt just started)

[fairlycapable]

...I need your help.

...I don't know if these names are your doing-I don't know if the're 'his' either, or the work of something else. But the name on my hand...she's precious to me. She's all I have from where I came from, here, and I don't want to do this...

How do I end this quickly?

How do I end this without pain..?

[Poison would probably be easiest, but making someone else do it could be easier; she is yet unaware of those particular unique 'gifts' given to her as a monster however.]

[finewithhalf]

[She came here to cry today. It's quiet here, and surrounded by safety and warmth. But mostly, it's just tears.

She leaves a message at length, after she feels guilty enough about wasting time without leaving something in return.]

Hi.

It's me again.

I'm trying really hard. Like really hard. I know how important you are, and I keep trying to make other people see that. But...

Farkle said something bad about you. And I just--I got so mad. I was going to kill him. I was going to cut out his throat because he didn't respect you enough.

But Farkle's one of my best friends. He's only ever tried to help me. I don't want to hurt him! I never want to hurt him!

But I almost did.

[The tears bubble over again.]

What's happening to me?

I'm so scared.

[fandisservice]

[ A wiser person, with a sense of impulse control would not contact the Fog God because someone on his stupid-ass network post "told" him to do so.

But a wiser person probably wouldn't have done most every action he's taken in his life so far, so IV is indeed bothering her with a trivial question. ]

So, all of the monsters are your creation, and I assume you wouldn't bother making yourself useless pawns, correct? What the hell good do Mers do you? Did you need three ships of sailors seduced wholesale at some point in the past?

[unignited]

[Yukio takes his time trying to make something of an appropriate offering. Fresh blood, an altar of bone, a heart that had been beating only hours before - if one is going to approach a god, it's best to try for the right footing. Right? But eventually, he prays. He has the right humility, but not the right awe or fear.

Yukio hadn't prayed since he was a child. Since he realized he was Satan's son and God wasn't answering.

But the Fog God brought him here, and rumors suggested maybe She was more responsive than the Christian deity ever had been.]

I am ready to offer service, to you or to your hated rival. I have no fear of you or He, but you have brought us and He shows no signs of wishing to return us or make our lives less full of unpleasantness.

What do you offer to your willing servants, that will be worth the price you ask? What rewards make you the better choice, Lady of the Fog?

[fandisservice]

[ His last visit gained him nothing of worth, and IV has no high hopes for this one either. But unlike last time, he has a plan and a purpose, and nothing to lose by asking. More power backing him, the better he'll be able to carry it out, but he's not going to be dependent on approval from on high.

He approaches all too casually, no respect or fear in his frame. But casually is no synonym for lazily, he's focused— his limbs are strung with excitement, potential wound in tight like a spring ready to snap. Whatever it is that brought him here, he's looking forward to ending the diversions and getting down to it. ]

Hey, Fog God. Isn't fear your thing? Would chaos be right up your alley too? I have a plan I'd like assistance with, all emotional proceeds feted in your honor.

[fromthefog]

[ For what feels like an eternity, there is no response. Seconds pass by, five, ten...

...and then a breeze begins, almost as if the air itself is taking a deep breath. It's soft at first, almost inaudible, but it grows louder with each second. The trees' branches start to rustle wildly; the grass is laid flat on the ground. A particularly strong gust rolls through, and if IV isn't careful he may find himself falling to one knee-

-only for the wind to die away, the sound softly ebbing with it. It sounds almost like laughter, growing more and more distant. Finally, just as the echo is about to fade completely, the unmistakable feeling of fingertips runs gently down IV's back, and a voice whispers: ]

I am listening, child.

[yurifriends]

[She's served the god for a while and, well, better now than ever. Tucked in her office of the orphanage after most of the children have went to bed she begins speaking.]

Can humans serve you as well? Sheep aren't only useful as food, after all...if a deed is done in your name, must it come from a monstrous hand?

[fromthefog]

[There is no response at first. Several seconds pass by, with only Yuriika's thoughts to break the silence...

...and then the door to her office creaks open. A slight breeze wafts through, the air cool and crisp as it enfolds her, and a woman's voice begins to softly speak.]

A sheep may give its wool freely, but no matter what it does it will still be a sheep. [Her voice is soft, tender - like a mother explaining why a child has to take their vitamins.] I will gracefully accept what I am given, but I only have love in my heart for the ones I have chosen. You understand, don't you?

[An errant gust touches the tip of Yuriika's hair, and for a moment it may feel as though a parent is brushing a stray lock from her face.]

My beloved child.

[kolus]

How many times will you bring them here just to take them away again? Watching them change, over and over again... I-I can't do it anymore. They're just kids. They don't deserve this.

I'll do whatever you want just stop bringing them here. End their suffering and I am yours.

[fromthefog]

[There is no immediate response, but that night she comes to him in a dream, bringing a chilling fog and howling winds. Her voice echoes.]

I have heard you. [Her next words have a lilt to them -- she's amused.] But did you not stop to think why I continue to bring them here? Did you think there really is a price you can pay to make Me stop?

[A pause.]

You already know much about sacrifice, Stanley Pines. But nothing you have given up in your life thus far is enough to sway Me. Tell me: how much farther are you willing to go?

[tasteslikesurvival]

[She hates having to do this. Having to speak to that thing but Yuuri's delusional. This wasn't supposed to be permanent. Not like this.]

What's the point? You take us, you throw us back. None of this even matters!

[Her voice is practically a snarl.] Give her back. You're just lying to her and you know it--give my friend back!

[fromthefog]

[A silence falls over Dyster.

The sound begins as a murmur: the sound of townsfolk whispering, hundreds of robes falling in unison to kneel. But soon it is joined by other things, too. A thousand small voices, laughing and whispering in the air. A sharp gust of wind picking up, tossing leaves and dirt freely as it passes by.

The bonfire at the center of the town roars, spiking up into the sky. The smoke within twists and writhes, bending further and further away from the air until it touches the ground before Kurumi, and as it thickens the form of a woman begins to take shape. The voices are laughing, high and mocking.

She is not.]

This is how you repay a friend's kindness, girl?

[manuscripture]

[ A fancy little note is left in the prayer box-- wherever it may be. It just needs to go somewhere. It knows who it goes to: ]

I wasn't going to, but I'll bite.

Madoka Kaname is a follower of yours. A close one, isn't she? [ Pay no mind to the fact that he has called bullshit on both gods more than once. This one has his interest. She sounds more fun too. ]

She has told me many things about you. That handful isn't enough. You are upfront and you do not lie to people. You are good to your followers, yes? There is something missing in my work. If I were to follow you, would I gain something tangible to hold on to? Power, protection, anything to ground myself and bring inspiration? I don't want to atrophy in Ryslig.

Think of this as me asking for a blessing. I want to feel inspired again, but I cannot do that without knowing that what I am asking for is real. Give me a sign that you aren't just a character played out by people in their heads and you will have gained another attendant.

-- Rohan Kishibe

[fromthefog]

[There is no response as Rohan leaves his note in Madoka's cafe. For the agonizing moments that he may wait, he is met only with silence - and in fact, there is no response throughout his entire shift.

However, when he reaches his own room, he will find a small grey gem and a letter on his bed. The gem is small and unsightly, looking more like a cloudy rock than anything precious. If Rohan thinks of someone while holding it, an image of them will begin to take form in his head. The image is not swayed by his thoughts; how that person looks, or what they are doing, acts to its own patterns. All he can control is which person he sees. However, if he thinks of someone he knows to be a fog follower, they will be depicted in heroic poses, and if he thinks of someone he knows to be a fourth follower, they will be depicted as mutilated to varying degrees of intensity.

The letter reads:

"You have earned your inspiration. Do not forget your end of the deal."]

[noasark]

[In the aftermath of Marco's death and his own decision to make good on his spat threats, it is the bonfire that draws him near. The bonfire and all of its wood, a few stacks poking upward like fence poles to frame the flames. The wood is sharp, and it's there, and with a muffled hiss the head is slammed upon one of them, one hand pushing it down and the other shoving the stake upward to better hold it balanced.

Miraculously enough Marco's glasses still sit askew on the face, droplets of venom staining the glass.

And with slowly calming breaths, he can finally bring himself down to 'earth', looking to the face while blood crusts over his hands. It's strange.

After all this, he can't well say he even remotely feels like 'taking it back'. Turning his eyes toward the flames, he speaks:]

...If he was as much of a pain to me as I've found, then I don't doubt he was beginning to prove himself an irritating thorn in your side.

With any luck, this will quiet his mouth for a while.

[...There is a pause. And taking the stake the head has been set upon, he removes it from the wood pile, before properly setting it into the ground. If he is taking this path he is taking it wholeheartedly. If he is taking this path he will no longer hide behind excuses and indecision like those who he scattered to the winds. He may be 'human' rather than 'machine', but if this is 'evil' then so be it.

The 'good ones', as of late, have acted so much worse.

The basilisk bows.] ...Consider this a dedication.

I've made my decision.

[fromthefog]

[When there is nothing to celebrate - no rituals to perform, no great days of honor approaching - Dyster is a naturally quiet place. Even so, when Noa slams the head down before the bonfire, an otherworldly hush falls over the place. The first villager to notice covers their mouth with their hands, their eyes wide and full of shock. Another villager looks, sees, and audibly gasps. Soon, they are congregating, drawing into the center of town en masse to surround Noa. They do not touch him, although they watch him with something between admiration and fear.

And then, once the villagers have assembled, the fire roars.

Sparks fly, singing the ground that they touch, and the wood of the pyre shifts in the massive blaze. It grows higher, and louder, and ever more powerful, and the villagers begin to collapse back from the intense heat... and suddenly it collapses, leaving tangible waves of smoke and ash in its wake. In the midst of the smog, the avatar of the Fog God stands, her eyes wild.

She looks at Marco's impaled head. A lip-splitting grin forms on her face, and she throws back her head and begins to laugh.]

It is done! Gaze upon him - gaze, and behold the fearsome beast which once hid from me! [She flings her arms open, holding her gaze high up to the heavens.] At long last, my warrior has taken up arms!

[The fire bursts forth once again, and with it chaos erupts. The villagers surge forward, crying out in a orgiastic mass as every one of them tries to reach and touch Noa. They dive through the flames, their skin crackling and scarring as they cry out- bless us! touch us! we are yours!

The smog begins to rise again - this time, around Noa. The fire's intense heat and the fog's natural chill begin to war, traveling across his skin in currents of pain and pleasure, and the air starts to crackle. Lightning cracks down around him, surging and knocking the villagers around him out of the way. He will realize, over time, that this is his gift to control. But for now, the most important thing is the way the Fog God looks directly at him.

She seems proud.]

Accept my blessing, Noa. It, and the people of this realm, are yours to do with as you see fit.

[She turns and walks into the fire, and soon nothing remains but the desperate cry of the villagers.]

backdated to a week after fiddleford and madoka kill each other;

[selfbegot]

[ she needs to go to dyster.

she knows that. she's been avoiding it ever since she died in the fog. (she's been avoiding most things since then, really.) part of her's ashamed at the way she lost control, but some part of her - a larger part than she thought, a part that's getting more powerful every day - is just ashamed she couldn't kill him without dying herself. either way she looks at it, though, she's failed. and the fog god needs to know.

she clasps her hands together moment, giving the quickest of prayers. sarah? can you hear me? i know i've probably disappointed you, but... i'm not going to hide anymore.

amd with that, she stands up, turns the key in her bedroom door, and steps into the cold air of dyster. ]

[fromthefog]

[Madoka is greeted by silence in Dyster. Not a single person can be found in their homes; were it not better kept, this place would feel no different than the ghost town of the peninsula. As she makes her way into the town proper, she will continue to find the streets bizarrely empty. One turn after another follows, until finally she has reached the bonfire in the center of the town, and it is here that every last villager has gathered.

At first, nobody notices her. It is a young woman, barely a teen, who sees her first - fanatically pointing and calling out to her. "She is here!" People begin to turn, facing Madoka and screaming her name until their voices blend into a cacophony of cheers. The crowd begins to part, clearing a path for Madoka, and as they clear away Sarah herself can be seen before the bonfire. She raises one hand, fog trailing from it as she moves, and almost instantly the village falls silent. Once she is certain that not a single voice remains, her implacable gray eyes staring straight into Madoka's, she speaks in a clear, powerful voice.]

Do you see her? My beloved pet has come home. [A few of the younger voices in the crowd call out, their elders immediately covering their mouths to silence them.] She who tore the life from a false god's prophet, and left his body as warning.

[The fire sputters, and the smoke coils into a recognizable shape - a naga, torn open at the chest.]

But the prophet was cunning, and in the coward's dying breaths he poisoned her. She died alone, unable to call out to me. [A gasp runs through the crowd, the villagers huddling near one another and trembling. Sarah extends a hand to Madoka, fog gathering in her outstretched palm.] Come, girl. Let me see you, that I may grant you my protection.

[As Madoka takes her hand, the freezing fog begins to move - slowly but inexorably crawling onto Madoka's arm, wrapping around her and slowly sinking into her skin. As it moves, it reshapes the wendigo's body, molding and warping a sizable hole into her chest. It's painful, but the icy fog dulls it down as it sets in. When the change is done, she lifts Madoka's hand into the sky.

Fog trails from the both of them as she does.]

Gaze upon her now! Feast your eyes upon my warrior, and rejoice in her victory!

[The crowd erupts once again, an indistinguishable mass of exultant screaming, and they flood in towards her - grabbing the hems of her skirt, touching her leg, grasping her free hand and crying. The grip on Madoka's hand loosens, and after a few short moments Sarah has dissolved into smoke and fog. When the villagers finally clear up around Madoka (or move her themselves), she will find a massive feast set for her - meats of all sorts, ceremonial offerings that don't look familiar at all, and the mutilated forms of several willing followers. Even horribly scarified and flayed, they are smiling, and if Madoka goes near they will reach out and call for her.]

Backdated to after Elizabeth's Death. CW for blood, violence, desceration of corpses

[fandisservice]

[ He sheds his gloves, tacky with blood, before he calls her. His white suit is ruined, like the corpse in his arms— something elegant once now left ripped and red-dyed. Her mask is missing a lens over her gouged-out eye, her hand missing nails, her musculature bare beneath missing flesh. Eventually, she had bled out. Eventually. Eventually had been a long time and her body bares the marks of passage, each minute carved in some new torment.

She hadn't given a fuck about most of it, is the worst part. His fangs had chewed frustration into his bottom lip, and a trickle of his own stale blood had left a trail down from the corner of his mouth to his chin. It's not visible now, the rest of the mess obscuring what's his with what's hers, but the trail that frustration left through his mind is visible in the furrow of his brow, the tightness of his mouth. She had taken his worst, and given him fucking nothing until the end.

Then: a congratulations. Then: a brief lament. Not sad, but a realization: ah, she wasn't strong enough to beat him, was she? That's how it goes. Survival of the fittest.

Then: he'd stopped, screamed into the music hall and stomped her ribs until they shattered. The broken hole in her chest above her heart is all postmortem damage. What the fuck was that? Acknowledgement, from the person who fucking murdered his brother, who wouldn't give him an ounce of joy in the suffering he granted her? What the fuck was he supposed to do with that?!

But it's been a half-hour. His gloves off, he arranges her on the stage— the Fog God had asked for a temple in Bavan for all to see. On a fallen support beam, crashed upright into the wood of the stage, he's stacked bricks and sandbags to make sure it stays upright then tied Elizabeth's corpse to it with ropes meant to hold back the curtains. A stake of wood debris has been jabbed through the cavity he left in her chest, and through that he's stabbed one of her posters— Evelina. On the top of the support beam, he caps it with her mask that marks her as one of the Bloody Bones— it's clear what was the crime that motivated this punishment.

Done, he pulls his key from his pocket, opens the door at the back of the music hall, and asks the empty doorway: ]

Have an opinion to share? Tell me, does this deed rank a "meets expectations" from you?

[ He is as bitter as he is eager in asking, as he presents his work with a flourish. His head stays bowed as he waits for judgement. ]

Ignore that last one! as a side note, Elizabeth's death is more than enough for Tier 3 boons ;)

[fromthefog]

[The wind stirs, a lone giggle carried alongside it - can you see? Another voice picks up, then another, and soon hundreds of voices are shrieking in laughter. Amidst them, a single voice grows - cackling, loud and triumphant.]

Can you see? Look upon her mangled body, and rejoice! My warrior returns, victorious!

[The wind curls around IV, cold and sharp, and soon the weight of a woman's embrace falls upon him. Her hands thread through his hair, grasping tight and trembling.]

Not a single wail in death. But know this: she died alone. She died awaiting my approval, and in her last breath she finally understood how worthless she was.

[The shaking hands loosen, almost as if she's remembered to breathe. A ghostly hand strokes his hair, and slowly the weight of her embrace is lifted.]

Did you feel the thrill of the fight? When you tore the life from her veins, did it bring you even a fraction of the joy I feel now?

[gentle_darkness_duelist]

[Talking to Noa had revealed many things to Judai about the nature of this world and about the gods here. However, he still had so many questions, and in his heart he knew that a follower couldn't pass on what he wanted to know. He had to speak to a source and pray to a god.

He was told that he could try call out to the gods in his dreams and see who replied, but Judai hoped that only she would answer him. The god who had the power to rip his fused soul away from his partner's, and draw him to another universe altogether. When the young man huddled in the rafters of an abandoned building the night, he made sure that the Fog God was on his mind. Whether or not he actually wanted to align with her was still up in the wind, but Judai wanted to talk to her more than anything.

He needed to ask.]

Are you even there?

I... literally just got here but I need to ask you about this war.

[He wants to ask how can he speed things up?

How can he help end it?]

[fromthefog]

[It's a long time before the Fog God deigns to answer him. But eventually, one night Judai will dream only of an empty void and the echo of his words from before. At first there is silence, nothing but the wind carrying his voice, before a gust suddenly picks up and a voice behind him answers.]

Your patience to hear my words has been rewarded, my pet...

[He would feel a pair of hands playing in his hair, cold to to the touch, but the motion is like the gentle stroke one might give a cat.]

Are you afraid? You need not be, with the power you carry within...

A little letter in the prayer box

[lutin]

[Eponine's been feeling lost lately. It's not in her nature, really, to turn to a God or a religion, but after losing her castle and returning to Ryslig, she's come to realise how grateful she is to the Fog God. Following this (http://rsdos.dreamwidth.org/311324.html) conversation, she's decided to leave a letter pledging her allegiance. In untidy, looping handwriting, she's scrawled:]

Dear Madame Fog God
I aint done this before. I've never said to a god hello or a prer or that. in paris you need shoes to worship God and I would rather go barefoot than wear them awful things of my fathers again. and when he did send me it were just to get money from the filanfropists and that what went there. there weren't time to say a prer or sing or anything.

but then you brought me here and things change. i might look bad but theres food. and actually i don't mind how i look so much. i wish my hair weren't green. i wish i didn't have wings. they are uncomfy to sleep on you know, when you're surprised by a man in the alley and there isn't time to spread them before you're against the wall. you know? i like the magic. and that is you. everyone says its you. you brought us here and made us this. and some people hate it but i don't mind it so much. its better than paris.


Madame? will you have me? i'll do what you want - if you need names or someone followed or that. that were my job in Paris. Here, i clean a table and i were taking my dress off at that theatre - he said it were cleaning but it weren't. but I'm better at that, following and that. i just want

well i am afraid that Monsieur Marty will tire of me. and then where will i go? Monsieur AM has taken my castle. i got nowhere and nothing. i don't want to sleep in ditches again. I am glad you've brought me here. and I'll do what you say.
you make it so i can't lie no more so you know i am saying the truth.

Please Madame Fog God, will you have me?

I am yours, your servant,
Eponine

[fromthefog]

[When she leaves her letter, there is a silence that follows. A quiet permeates the room, the building, and seems to trail her every step. Time passes with quietness, and it may be hours later, or days, but eventually (at a time of your choosing) the quell ceases. Eponine will be caught in a gentle wind, swirling around her ankles and feet and tossing her hair this way or that. It's not the playfulness of children, but the endearment of someone much, much older that surrounds her.]

I will have you.

[The winds will continue to dance around her, kicking up leaves into nearby whirls. If she listens carefully, there seem to be voices in that wind, human and distant, but the words will escape her. When it blows past her eyes, she will feel them tingle and burn, like first waking up. It blows across her arms and into her hands, spinning there, growing heavier, until it coalesces into shape: the mist-gray key of Fog.]

Give me pride for you, my sweet pet, and you will know much greater treasures than this.

[And with that, the wind and the presence are gone, and Eponine has her first boons from the Fog God.]

A prayer box letter...

[retested]

I don't know how to start this. I don't know what I'm doing. But you're the one who brought me here, right? You gave me these powers, you brought me back to life and for that I'm eternally in your debt...but another one of your followers told me you want us to kill the opposition.

I know I've fucked up, I've murdered, but I was never supposed to. I'm supposed to test others' will to survive, to let them make their own choice to live or die. That's John's way, his will, and he saved my life. I said terrible things to him before I died, shit I can never take back, so the right thing to do is follow his teachings from here on out. Isn't it? Even if he'll never know, I should do it, because it's the only way I can ever make up for it. He's my true father, the only one who ever loved me.

It's hard, though, it's so fucking hard. I want to kill. I can barely fucking contain it. I was reborn through John, so why wasn't I fixed? I only got worse and worse! And now you give me this hunger, this need to kill. and my wrists...where I cut them, over and over again, you made me grow these mouths to nourish and protect me. I have to eat to survive, so that doesn't count as murder, but what about killing for you? How can I justify that? What the hell am I supposed to do?!

I met death, and because of you I was reborn again. I have your key, so please. Please help me, if you have any kind of faith in me. Tell me what I need to do, give me a purpose, help me to understand why you want this of me...

[fromthefog]

[The response is not immediate. Hours pass from the moment Amanda drops in her letter, then days. On the third evening, however, the wind begins to pick up near Amanda's shack. What starts as a breeze turns into gusts and gales, a cold fog making its way inside without triggering any of Amanda's traps.

Amidst the sound of the wind, footsteps can almost be heard. They approach Amanda, stopping barely a meter away from the woman, and from the fog a voice backed by hundreds whispers out:]

He is not the only one to love you.

[The sensation of a hand reaches towards Amanda's face, moving to run lightly down her hair. If she jerks back, the fog will not pursue her; if she remains still, the fog will stroke her hair as she speaks.]

You ask for what I desire? What I desire is to see you happy, my pet. [And her whisper, as imperious and intimidating as it is, does not sound insincere.] My wish, more than anything, is for you to be able to accept what you are. To know that the sins you dwell on are meaningless in my eyes. But... If purpose will bring you the absolution you seek, then purpose I will give.

[The presence draws away for a moment, and if the god's body were here it feels as if she would draw herself to her full height. When she speaks, her voice is clear and cold - almost regal in its delivery.]

Long, long ago, I condemned the humans of this place. They were weak, foolish things - as they still are. And when I brought my judgment upon them, no matter how they begged others to help, they were unable to lift a finger as their homes and families fell dissolved away. [Her voice hardens as she speaks, a cold anger in every word.] You wish to find purpose? Prove to me that I was wrong. Find me even one human worthy of my love, and you will have found miracles where I only saw dirt.

Find me a human who will not break, girl.

[handle]

Hello? It's Sorey.

[ A beat, and he'll ask softly: ] There's some questions I'd like to ask.

[fromthefog]

[There is no response for some time - several days, a week, more. But on a night following, Sorey may notice distant noises going dull: some fade to silence entirely, while others are overlayed by a faint suggestion of whispers. Mist seeps up from the ground, winding through the flowers draped from his shoulders.]

[The voice comes soft, just behind his ear. It will stay there even if he turns to follow.] Ask, my child, and I shall answer.

backdated to around 9/23

[pundulum]

[Yuya's face is still healing from being literally ripped off - it's only been a couple of days since he escaped the thieves' lair, and the fog is still out, leaving the naga stuck in this frightening new fog form that binds his arms to his sides with snakes and makes it hard to move around without slithering on his belly like a demented travel form. It's sort of driving him crazy. But, there's more than one reason than that. The timing was so good... for him to suddenly get a fog form just in time to save everyone from the face-thieves' lair. It's difficult not to dwell on, so he's been racking his brain over it many times over the past couple of days... eventually, he props his back up against his window to look out over his shoulder, one of his new bang snakes picking away at his bandages so he can do so. Outside is blanketed in fog. He just mutters into it.]

Fog god... was it just a coincidence?

[He doesn't really want to think of her as having saved them.... he's as opposed to the Gods and their war as they come, and the fog-dispelling lantern he carries, despite all the mischief the thief had caused with it, might as well be physical proof of that. It's currently under his bed, though he could probably reach it with his tail from here... but there wouldn't be much point to using it on himself now when the gas would run out faster than fog, so he's just going to keep looking out with a troubled expression. He's not really expecting an answer, but he sort of wants one anyway.

What the hell, fog.]

[fromthefog]

[There's no voiced response. But after a few minutes, fog starts to seep in through the crack underneath the window - it loops in faint curls around Yuya, weaving through the hissing snakes wrapped around his arms, and spreads into the room. Then it settles, like a comforting blanket.]

[It will stay there for the remainder of the fog unless Yuya dispells it with his lantern, drifting in circles as though propelled by an invisible breeze, but spreading no further into the building. If Yuya - and only Yuya - spends time within, he'll hear soft ringing noises off in the distance. Like wind chimes, dangling over a misty porch.]

[The door is always open.]