CHULANE
I believe that dreams are sacred
The moose shifted his monumental weight, watching and admiring - and keeping an eye on those who were still very ill. The demonstration of power that Deimos was giving was nothing short of incredible, and that he might ever feel inclined to turn such power against another was not lost on Chulane. He silently hoped to never be on the negative side of Deimos' ire, to never earn such treatment (that time in the Grounds had also been more than enough for him come to this conclusion many weeks ago).
The Voice had been an Abandoned, and the Abandoned were so named before they gods did not like to share that particular strain of magic with mortals. Idly, he wondered if Abandoned were called such before the Voice emerged as the entity she is now.
A low grunting snort was given to the lion, a flare of annoyance shot his way over the bond. 'Safrin. We're here to honour Safrin, Loren.' Perhaps it was the shifting flames, the way they changed from something peaceful and beautiful to something terrifying and magnificent.
Pawns or no, they were certainly a strange bunch out on the snow this evening. 'Are our mortal concerns any different to their concerns with how we live our mortal lives?' Perhaps it was the atheist in him, the years of questioning religion on his home world, that made him question the very real gods of this world. And yet, he also found himself filled with an overwhelming resignation towards them - a sort of begrudging acceptance, for these gods had at least proved themselves to be real, it was more the why they existed that the Chief was questioning now.
The Voice had been an Abandoned, and the Abandoned were so named before they gods did not like to share that particular strain of magic with mortals. Idly, he wondered if Abandoned were called such before the Voice emerged as the entity she is now.
A low grunting snort was given to the lion, a flare of annoyance shot his way over the bond. 'Safrin. We're here to honour Safrin, Loren.' Perhaps it was the shifting flames, the way they changed from something peaceful and beautiful to something terrifying and magnificent.
Pawns or no, they were certainly a strange bunch out on the snow this evening. 'Are our mortal concerns any different to their concerns with how we live our mortal lives?' Perhaps it was the atheist in him, the years of questioning religion on his home world, that made him question the very real gods of this world. And yet, he also found himself filled with an overwhelming resignation towards them - a sort of begrudging acceptance, for these gods had at least proved themselves to be real, it was more the why they existed that the Chief was questioning now.
Take my darkest fears and play them
