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

[thischaos]

[Mello never thought he would find himself here. Not unless he was on a mission to raise hell and trail fire behind him — things have changed beyond reprieve — and he's gone and allowed L to lead him to Dyster with the tunnel vision he reserves for when there's a specific objective at hand.]

You win.

[And that's about as humble as he'll get. Anyone who knows the vampire would know that the admission is painful to offer. Still, he's as petulant as ever: arms crossed tightly across his chest; he won't kneel unless specifically asked, and even then — ]

My God isn't here. [Never was anywhere, really.] You're the closest thing we've got, yeah. [If this is praying, he'll let it be what it is.] Figured it's time to pick a side.

[If there's a tint of bullshit laced between his words, well.]

Elias is a joke. [A child. A threat.] And since you're the one responsible for everything as far as stripping our humanity goes —

[Never one to forgive, in the end.]

— I guess I should thank you for making me into something less hideous, at least. [Among other things. He's quiet for a moment; Mello didn't come here to fall out of favor with someone he's decided to follow.]

So.

[So.]

You want loyalty, right. [His chin lifts with the offer; pride will always bleed off off him. Even now.] I'm here to give it to you — if you're willing to accept it.

[fromthefog]

[As Mello lifts his chin, mist begins to swirl at his feet. The surrounding area becomes chillier, the air heavier, densier, until the ghost town of Dyster vanishes from sight, and nothing but fog surrounds him. Something seems to almost form in the fog, a hand of sorts, and it cups his chin. Its touch is chilly and firm, but somehow...gentle, as well.

Silence lingers in the air for a few moments that seem like an eternity, as Mello may feel a presence staring, studying him. And just as it seems like the moment may be lasting too long, a flurry of whispers touch his ear.]

I've long accepted you, child. It was merely an act of waiting for you to accept me.

[The 'hand' finally releases his chin, sending a chill through his body. The fog god's presence is everywhere and no where, and the soft whispers of her voice seem to prick one ear and then the other.]

Your loyalty is precious, pet, but do not misunderstand. . .I have no need nor wish for an army. Just those who will embrace my gift and shun the imposter as he spits his lies. [the fog like hands grasp at his shoulders, giving him a gentle, but firm squeeze, frost creeping over them. ] But should you accept me and serve me...you will be rewarded, as any good child should be.

So tell me, pet. What is it you desire?

[thischaos]

[He doesn't know what he expected — L didn't exactly provide details on how this goes — but it's instinct to tense and curl sharp tips of claws into his palms when the hand appears and reaches out. Still, he came here for a reason so he responds with perfect stillness; it takes almost more courage than he has to avoid immediately snapping his head back and away.]

[But there's no threat here, is there? Whether or not he feels like he's being studied, the lack of malice takes the edge off just enough to quell his innately combative nature.]

[Child. Mello's never been anyone's child, even if her presence dwarfs his arrogance to where he feels like little more than something being wrapped in comfort that may or may not be a convincing lie.]

I've already done that, [he reassures, and knows she's already aware.] And I will. No matter what. [She could banish him from Dyster now on a whim and Elias will always be something he rejects without a second thought. Before now, before her, Mello would have thought he was immune to the cold. But it's something that pricks at his nerves — a promise, maybe — and it's only appropriate to bow his head in something akin to a nod, isn't it?]

One thing. [For now.] One of his followers told me that you were incapable of it, but I don't think that's true. [A little flattery has always gone a long way with him. Maybe it will be the same here.]

[Out with it, then.]

I need someone removed from my memory. Not asking you to alter history or rearrange events — just pick him out and let me figure out the rest. If I'm to serve you properly, [and oh, that devotion still stings. Even if it's what he came here to do, specifically.] I can't have anything getting in the way.

[Breathe.]

L Lawliet. He calls himself Linden Tailor here. [As though she doesn't already know.] Build a wall, rip it out, whatever you need to do. I'm willing to deal with the repercussions. But I need time. [Always a catch, isn't there?] One month to tie up loose ends, and then I need him gone.

[fromthefog]

[As he speaks the fog swirls around him, ever present and watchful as always.

However, at his request. . .the fog stills, as if frozen in a fleeting moment, and the fog seems to whisper among itself. For the first time in a while, it seems as if the Fog God has genuinely been caught off guard. When it begins to drift again, there's a curious, thoughtful tone to her whispers.]

Curious. Most of your kind would never demand such a thing. . .the death I bring you back from robs your precious memories as well, so many would prefer to avoid such a fate. It also matters not to me who your eyes stray to. [the whispers chuckle] Your carnal attachments are quite amusing.

But as a request from my beloved child. . .yes, I can grant you this wish. [The fog washes over him, delicately coming through his hair with an icy touch.] It is a simple, yet heavy task. I can remove every trace of him, and hold it close to my heart for safe keeping. Should you ever want it returned, you need only to ask, child.

[The fog drifts closer to him once more, and once again, he may feel the presence of someone inches away from his face, staring with intrigue.]

But know this, child, I will not remove any new memories of him forged post our arrangement, nor will I alter whatever opinion you form of this newly made stranger.

Now, should you agree to these terms, pet...you need only to speak with me when you are ready.

[thischaos]

[It's hubris, alone, that has brought Mello to this place with a request that may or may not have been granted when he decided to present it. Even as a monster in a sea of monsters, he considers himself above the rest: his devotion unequaled, his loyalty something to be fought for at every turn.]

[And if it feels as though he's being gently scolded, well. It's only because he's worked this over in his mind so many times that even in this moment of absolute decision, doubt picks at the edges enough to silence him for a minute — two. He'll take the off-handed taunt (if that's even what it is), the insult to his intelligence. While some might cherish their memories before Ryslig, those people don't have the living ghost of a dead man monopolizing their energy to the point where everything else falls to the wayside.]

It's not carnal, [he shoots back, because that's what he does. Even now, with his wish being handed to him, Mello has to rebel in some form. But she has to know, and has to understand, because someone with enough power to yank him from death and gift him with a second chance is nothing less than omnipotent, in his book.]

[He stares straight ahead at the unseen presence, the being beyond his understanding that no-doubt views him as a plaything — an ant — with a conviction reserved for nothing and no one. The nod comes slow but sure. He's worked through the possibilities, put back-ups into place. If he weren't ready in every sense of the word, he wouldn't be here.]

[Would he?]

[And that she would return the memories if he so chooses: her followers' devotion doesn't stem from nothing, does it? Whatever her underlying motive, she is what Mello needs her to be. Agreeable, willing to make deals that ultimately benefit him in the end. His swallow is thick — just a touch of uncertainty — before he speaks but what he does — ]

[When he does, his words hold the conviction of kings and Gods, alike.]

It's what I want.

[Then, as an aside: he reaches a pale arm out into the mist, fingers splayed. Mello won't bend a knee to anyone, but he will show gratitude where it's due and right now? The God he's raged so hard against with every flippant word of dismissal and petulance is doing for him what no one else could. For that, he'll be sure to show her that her choice is the right one. In any way he can.]

Thank you.

[And there's relief beneath the tension. Once this is done? Endless possibilities await him without the overhanging shadow and weight of a duty that was never his to take on.]