ludo
Ludo did not respond, uncomprehending of what she meant. A memory lived within a person, whether or not it was triggered by an object or otherwise. The object was an object to all but the person to whom the memory held value. Its point remained the same: to extract a memory would be to keep it safe from forgetting. But not from destruction or loss.
"Sweetling, you know well the ways of our lands. Do you not make lanterns every year for those you miss? Are you not able to dedicate yourself to remembering?" It patted her head with a rag, assuming her to be lost in her grief currently. The question took the deity off guard, Ludo's mask growing carefully blank.
"I do not understand," it said. Did a deity of death lose anyone, truly?
"Sweetling, you know well the ways of our lands. Do you not make lanterns every year for those you miss? Are you not able to dedicate yourself to remembering?" It patted her head with a rag, assuming her to be lost in her grief currently. The question took the deity off guard, Ludo's mask growing carefully blank.
"I do not understand," it said. Did a deity of death lose anyone, truly?
