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

[fandisservice]

[ His head jerks at the laughter, incredibly close— it flares through him like a burst of memory. Scorn before he's even been issued orders, the hotel rooms and his father on his throne paying more attention to cartoons than IV's reports. But still, every report— he got the job done. He grits his teeth— he can prove himself better than whatever shallow portrait she has of him painted inside her head, he's damn sure.

But as she speaks, outrage digs a fire-pit in his chest that sends fury molten down his veins. He hadn't known, what this human bitch had done to his brother. Now, enlightenment is a key in the ignition, and he is an engine of violence ready to move. All thoughts of his petty contest leave his head— instead, he pictures his brother splattered apart and wracked with paint. Of a woman he doesn't know, taking his family from him again.

It will be the last time. His mouth takes the serrated line of his fanged grin— he will be sure of that. She will take his brother's place in that mental gallery. Vengeance, wrought. He will chisel her to a monument of contorted gristle and flesh, and sign his name in knife strokes. The finest service he can offer— she's gone so far to catch his attention, he'll make sure to lavish her with it. Evelina, Elizabeth will not be allowed any other future.

And if it grants him the Fog God's approval, that's secondary. He's going to do this, and he's going to fucking enjoy. Laughter boils over in his throat. ]

Hah— hahaha! I can be satisfied with this kind of show. I'll make her death into a true spectacle! [ His hand reaches up his cheek, where he last felt her touch, swearing to her with manic promise, his hand half-clenched. ] She'll feel hell alight on each and every nerve, and know it's not half of what she deserves. She'll be blighted with nothing but suffering.

It will be a very throughout service.

[fromthefog]

Good boy.

[There is laughter behind her words: exultant, exhilarated. To say she is pleased with his words would be an understatement. He has delighted her.]

I will be watching you, child. Go now... with my blessing.

[And with a faint laugh, the voice fades into the wind.]

[fandisservice]

Certainly!

[ Approval gusts over him in the wind of her laughter and sparks a mirroring laugh, and he bows: a performer exiting the stage. ]

Keep your eyes pealed for the start of the act.