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

[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?