He of little faith

Loren had been in Caido for over a year, and had somehow managed to avoid divine intervention. Mostly that was by choice: he had avoided people and as a result, had avoided their encounters with the gods. Partially, though, it was because his land didn’t have gods, and so the Launceleyn didn’t really know how they fit into his life. He didn’t know how to reckon with beings that were so far beyond him and his mortal kin. For all his life, the Launceleyns had styled themselves after gods, as powerful beings who could take life with a thought. But then they’d come here, and how wrong they’d been proven. They were like ants compared to true divine beings. And, humbled, he’d avoided the shrines for fear of them realizing his folly. Besides, as someone who’d been so low for so long, he didn’t think he was worthy of their attention. Nor was he sure that was something he wanted. Attracting the attention of things more powerful than him inevitably ended in pain and heartbreak. Plus, a god had stolen Remi’s love for Loren, and the Abandoned had been left bereft. But after his long absence, after being lost for so long, Loren had somehow lost a bit of his fear. Or maybe it was simply the fact that he was already pretty much at rock bottom: there was little left that a god could take from him that he hadn’t already lost, in some form or another. His sanity had been stolen by his family, his happiness had been snuffed out by his own actions, and his family was almost entirely gone. And Loren wasn’t exactly here all the way. Maybe it was time to give himself up to something greater than himself. He’d always been happiest that way. So, without thinking too hard about the potential repercussions, he had inquired about the shrines and the gods. People gave him funny looks: to most, this was common knowledge. Still, he got useful advice out of it. First, they didn’t like his kind, the Abandoned; second, most divine beings didn’t suffer insults, so always be respectful, even in his own head; finally, bringing an offering sometimes appeased them. Loren had nodded along, then set off to make his preparations. He’d purchased some fragrant incense, along with some milk and honey, though it had cost him more than he’d expected. Still, given that he was one of the few Launceleyns left—and given that Zariah and Edy had been queens (he still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around that fact)—it stood to reason that he wasn’t exactly poor, even if he was still dressed in rags. Besides, if the gods smote him he wouldn’t need to worry about money anymore. Actually, he figured in his present state his appearance might be considered disrespectful; it was silly, but better safe than sorry. So he’d gotten a bath, and new clothes. They weren’t pretty, but they were serviceable, and he felt better, more comfortable, more like a real person in him. Then he realized he was delaying the inevitable, and he’d set off. There were many types of shrines. Loren had picked the one out in the wilderness. He felt more peaceful out there, away from people, and he had a stupid feeling that he’d feel more relaxed and be less prone to panick if a god did answer and he was outside rather than in an enclosed space. Setting down the milk and honey and incense on a rock, Loren gathered some kindling and set it next to the incense. Then he concentrated briefly. A flint and steel sprang to his hands, and he smiled. Creation magic felt good and right to him. Then he knelt down and struck the flint against the steel. It took a few tries, but eventually a spark found the kindling and it caught. Swiftly he pocketed the flint and steel and touched the ends of the incense to the small fire. Thankfully it lit, and a sweet scent soon filled the circle of stones. Turning to face the center of the circle, Loren bowed his head and breathed deeply. He tried to reach the meditative state he’d been taught for magic; he didn’t fully succeed, but his thoughts were less erratic and he felt calmer. Then—before he could convince himself to leave—he spoke. “Gods, hear my prayer. I know I am not worthy of your attention or your regard, and I know you have no care for my kind.” He took another deep breath before continuing. “But I come to you with humble offering, bowed head, and honest plea. Please guide me through this time of need, so that I can help others who need it far more than I.” He was beyond help. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t still be of use to others, in whatever way he could, and whatever way they’d let him. After all, even in his darkest moments (though now was the darkest) he’d always been better at caring for others than he was for himself. LOREN Not quite an open book

Loren was right of course, the gods didn't care at all for him or his kind. Whether it was that or their infinitely busy schedules and mysterious priorities that kept any from appearing, was unclear. Whatever the reason, the cool Leafchange breeze was all that would greet the Launceleyn in the glade.

Loren waited at the shrine until his knees hurt and until the sun began to set. Never let it be said that he would not show proper deference. Besides, it would be just his luck to leave just before the gods deigned to answer his call. So he stayed, far past what he probably should have, far past what was reasonable. He kept his ears and his eyes strained for any sign that his prayer would be answered. Even a negative response would be better than this nothingness that permeated the shrine. But even the Launceleyn was forced to admit defeat soon enough. He bowed his head one last time. "Thank you for the honor of praying to you." Even now, he wanted to make sure he couldn't screw this up, as he'd screwed up so much in his life. Standing, he turned to go, without looking back. It seemed he truly was abandoned in name and in spirit. LOREN Not quite an open book