who we are and all that we're trying to be
The Reaper never thought there’d be a day where he was helping to construct a shrine.
But he calculated and listened, to the flow of Ronin’s plan, to Amalia’s musing thoughts, back and forth, watching, waiting, for his turn. He had to wonder if this was how many of the other temples and sanctums had been cultivated and orchestrated: inhabitants coming together, working, collaborating, on a structure, on a place, they could all hope to utilize and call upon their deities. He’d never considered it before – how over time nature had taken back some of their efforts, like the one in the Glade, shifting its earthen touches over the ridges and lines, over the circular patterns. Perhaps in another time, the heavens would flicker against this as well, and it’d be lost to the stars, to the constellations, to the galaxies; discovered again and again when people came to kneel at the twinkling sanctuary.
His gaze caught on to Remi’s endeavors, stones carved from the earth, rather than created solely by invocations: so as he raised them from the soil and the loam, the warrior took the portions and began making the small, arched wall, constructing it piece by piece, ensuring a strong base. Once he’d begun the foundation, circular, round, he started adding layers, building upon one another, sturdy and stalwart, enough to hold itself together, enough to hold dreams and prayers of the people.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
