fromthefog | Prayer Box

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Alfred sits high on the roof atop Castle Von Krolock, his twisted, stretched frame hunched over his work. With one last hiss over elongated teeth, he takes up the last crucifix out of what he had brought with him - and then snapping it to splinters, throwing it on the pile with the others. Crucifixes, stakes...the trappings of his old existence.

No more.

He strikes a match and drops it onto the pile, letting it smolder and burn atop the sturdy stone. Beside it, he places a little cake, simple, but well made - still a little warm, smelling faintly of the blood he baked into it.

Once all of this is set out, he looks down to it with his flat red eyes. He draws a deep breath, shutting them as he drops to his knees.

And then...he sings, voice ringing out into the night to a tune printed upon his heart: ]

Harry tells me that he finds peace in you
I have heard you calling, your message comes through - so clearly
I am ready to embrace my life here
To let myself go, to protect those I hold dear
To turn from my old self...to cast off my fears...

[There is a rumbling to his resonance, right now, due to the form he currently takes - it unsettles him. Being a vampire unsettles him.

And so he continues.]

I am lost! Since I have turned into this
Dragged back to damnation by vampire's kiss - no escape
Being a Demon, at first weighed on my heart
But now I would give all to feel the beating restart
Damnation, so be it - let me play my part!

Let my strength be true and right
Let my nerve be iron and fire
Let my heart be free of fright
Cast the chains from my desires

Let me fly on the wings of my soul
Show others what they could be
To fight for who I love and be who I really am
To pull the stake from my heart...and heal....

[Alfred's tone breaks a little, a crimson tear tracking down his death pallor and falling into the fire.]

...I'm grateful for this chance, grateful to you....

I was lost, but you have reached out your hand
I cowered for so long, now I understand - I'm ready
To wear your mantle, I pray you'll hear my plea
To be strong and be true for those counting on me
A monster, so be it - with you I'll be free....

[With that, he goes silent once more...unsure of what this prayer will bring, but opening himself to the result, head bowing in respect.]

Edited 2022-06-30 00:03 (UTC)

[There is, in the misty air, something that is not quite a voice, and not quite several voices, and not quite orchestral. It begins to join in the rhythm of his prayer after a stanza or two, and lingers in the night air even when he is silent. It seems to hum in the storm-static of the fog, which swells from the fire's smoke and quickly spreads, undulating against the walls of the castle.]

[It lingers when the Fog speaks, too - and there is a cadence in that inhuman voice that mirrors his own, hanging just this side of music. The Fog, it seems, appreciates the show.]

My sweet pet. Of course I hear you. Of course I hear your plea.

[In the thickening mist, there seems at times now to be a visible shape; roughly humanoid, blurred by the fog, hanging a few yards in front of Alfred, out beyond the edge of the roof. Blink, and the shape shifts and moves, and perhaps it was never there at all - and yet, she reaches out her hand, and the fog twines and twists.]

You understand now. My child, my dear sweet child, let go of all of it. The pain, the fear, the doubt. I'm so proud of you.

[The figure flickers closer, in the shifting of the smoke and fog. Cool fingers seem to rest for a moment against the top of his head, as though in blessing.]

[Harry had spoken to him of the Fog. Of how she could help him, of how he could call upon her and she would hear him...but this? The voice? That touch he he certain he can feel?

It's nothing like the blind faith his Father had told him he should have, all those years ago. There's...response.

He shivers, leaning into the blessing, shutting his eyes. Despite the horror of his current form, it's with the cadence of a child that he asks, soft and shaking for all it rumbles in his chest:]

...You're proud of me?

Of course, child.

[Cold fingers of mist, trailing through his hair. The soft hum of static, rising and falling in a lingering echo of his song. The Fog is cold, but her voice is warm.]

Not everyone embraces my gifts as you do. Not everyone comes home.

I am so glad you have come home, my pet.

Prayer Box

Backdated to the night of the 17th, during the Fog - sorry for being kinda extra, mods

No apology needed! Sorry for taking so long to respond.

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