”A whole land of giants?” I blink, incredulously, my head tilting to the side as I try to picture it. It sounds terrible, and I barely repress a shudder. ”I think I like the idea of you being the only tall one I know. It stops being fun if it’s common.” But the lack of folk in his world makes a little bit of sense, at least when it comes to his carelessness with his name, and accepting my food. I would hope any natural worth their salt would at least hesitate.
The explanation about the handshaking is mer with a sniff, the topic suddenly anything but interesting to me. At least I know it isn’t strange now. Well, isn’t strange for them. It will probably always be strange to me, the expectation of physical touch, with a stranger no less. Yet I have happily accepted it twice now. The gifted feather is tucked into my hair, a flash of blue among the black that I will forget about until it falls loose, and give me reason to be excited again.
When he says he hasn’t heard of the other gods, I practically glow, excitement crossing my face. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten to explain it to someone interested, though I do have to make something clear first. ”The Voice,” I all but sneer the name, ”is not a true god. It is not something one can do to them self. It is a half formed thing, grasping at a divinity it cannot possibly understand. The true gods though, the ones you named, and the others, they are...” I grab a string of berries, still attached to their vine. ”They come from an ancient flow of power.” I gesture to the main stem, eyes on his face and not my own hands. ”There are similarities between them, but the flow branches apart, gives specific gods their identities.” My finger traces down the vine until it ends on a berry, and I pause, to make sure he’s understanding so far. ”This would be a fully realized god. Frey, or Mort. But there are others.” Now I gesture to a half formed berry, unable to grow fully before I plucked it. ”They are connected to the divine, but not as whole, not as powerful as the completed gods. The deep ones, and the bright ones, and the forgotten ones.”
”Everywhere is different than somewhere else. So get used to it isn’t quite right. More...” I tilt my head back and forth while I think. ”More Rolling with the changes, rather than accepting them.”
Tarasha
the adnascentia of my soul will crack the earth
