🌓 001

[deathstealer]

[ At first, there comes an immense weight into the Murmur. A million eyes focusing on one thing; a swollen and dark moon threatening to crash into a city; the aural weight of a million million voices rising in rapture; a darkness so blinding it cannot be looked at.

As quickly as it came, it draws back, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. And then: the chill touch of a snowflake landing on the back of one's hand. The rustle of a snowbound tree branch, the crunch of ice underfoot. A background coldness that some may realize has been lurking in the Murmur persistently, even if it rarely engages.

Then, comes Ranni's accented voice. ]

Apologies for mine intrusion--

[ She doesn't sound sorry at all. ]

By now, we all know of Sleep,
and her toothed attentions, her red obsessions;
are there any among you who worship her?

[ The humanoid Hosts have been following anybody who do not, and it has prompted Ranni's genuine curiosity. ]

Does a true, avid worshiper exist among us?
Or are we all heretics,
spurning the love so heavily offered?

Comments

[eidxiety]

Goddess Sleep made me Her priest — or more accurately, I suppose you'd say She said I could call myself that. I would say that I'm an avid worshipper, after the kindness She showed to me.

[deathstealer]

Oh, indeed?
And what did Sleep do to earn thy trust?
You say she showeth kindness;
but that is a small thing
that many mere mortals are capable of.
What grand feat drew your worship?

[eidxiety]

[Is this the point where Ain admits that his previous Goddess just kind of sucked and cast him out, so he latched onto the first Goddess that didn't despite all evidence pointing to the fact he shouldn't? No, surely it is the non-believers who are wrong.]

I suppose you could start with the fact that She promised all of us a future, and explained to me what Her intentions were regarding transforming us into other things — which is an explanation I found worthwhile.

[The only reason he heard her out was because she said she loved him, which is the bare fucking minimum here, and yet.]

[deathstealer]

Oh?

[ And now Ranni's attention is very much intrigued, the sense of her in the Murmur sharpening to a blade of ice.

She, too, has spoken with Sleep. But she had not asked about the intention behind these transformations. ]

What was her explanation?
What words did she speak,
that satisfied thee so clearly?

[hongtian]

[ For a while Ruhong is just listening: there, distantly intent, but silent. Her presence simply hovers for a while until she decides it time to speak to Ranni. ]

What will you do with this information, once you have it?

[deathstealer]

[ Rather than any sense of offense at Ruhong's dubiousness, Ranni instead feels pleased, like the moon deciding to shine a little brighter between the clouds. ]

'tis mere curiosity, for now--
I do not judge the followers,
only that which they follow.
If Sleep has ensnared worshippers here,
'tis not their fault to have been led astray,
and they have a right to make their choices.

[ Yes, Ranni will consider them to be in more danger than the others. Yes, she will consider them more gullible, or perhaps just more vulnerable. But she will not attempt to force them to change their minds. ]

I had assum'd that none worshipped her,
but I thought to test that theory.

[hongtian]

[ A small breath of air, somewhere between a snort and a hum. ]

They've a right to their choices, true. Some may be ensnared, but some may have made that choice with their eyes wide open, and I've the right to oppose them. Might there be a way to know who is which?

[deathstealer]

Perhaps.
Those that she has ensorcelled, the Hosts;
they dog the footsteps of those that do not worship.
It may be possible to discern worshipper from atheist,
by merely observing who they follow,
and who they do not.

[hallowedly]

( Ah, what an explosive question; excuse the glint of amusement through the Murmur. )

Do you feel well loved?

[deathstealer]

I prefer a different kind of attention;
less obsessive, more... useful.

[ Ranni's own reply comes with something of a sigh, the rustle of snow falling off a roof. ]

She toys with us in the way a fickle child toys with dolls.
Careful with her beloveds,
and cruel with those she discards.

[hallowedly]

All great loves fade, don't they?

[deathstealer]

Indeed, they do;
even those written among the stars.
Still, one must never discount
a god's tendency toward obsession--
and for how long gods can remain obsessed.

[longwillows]

[The faint rustling of an overgrown forest at dusk, alive with the wild and the unknown, answers the recent snowfall. The light chiming of bells carries amusement across the Murmur—a deceptively playful sound from within the dangerous forest.]

I'm led to believe that some of my recreational activities could be considered acts of worship.

[Judging by all the compulsive horniness and ritualistic sex stuff...] But I trust you know where my heart lies on this matter.

[All her Tethers know by now that her grudge against Sleep has gotten particularly personal.]

[deathstealer]

I do, playful hunter.
Thy stance is clear,
thy heart is strong.

[ It would be wrong to say that only the weak-willed fall for the acts of gods like Sleep. It is more... the desperate, or the lonely, or the sad. Those that have a void within them, and are seeking to fill it.

Those of them with a keen eye for bullshit, like Kalmiya, prove resistant. ]

How fare thee this day?
Thy presence in the Murmur feels strong.

[longwillows]

[The tickling sense of amusement grows more intense in response to the epithet, accompanied by the warmth of fondness.]

Stronger in your company, my icy enchantress. [As flirtatious as ever.] Restless, though, I must admit. I've attracted quite the crowd with my heretical sentiments, and they're starting to look like very tempting prey.

[On a more...feral level than the anger that normally drives her violence upon them. More than once she has caught herself baring teeth too eager to bite.]

[deathstealer]

Of course.
The Hosts with human faces,
and their obsession with all things blasphemous.

[ Ranni has thus far managed to avoid them, but she has seen them gathering in the wake of other non-believers. She has only witnessed them staring and following, but has heard of their potential violence.

Individually, she would not rate them as strong fighters. In a mob, however... ]

'twould be a smarter choice to flee,
should thee find thyself cornered.

[vocalistyodels]

[Ah, that's a familiar voice. He feels pulled towards her on the murmur through their tether.]

I love a good nap, but ain't got not no love for Sleep.

[After all that shit that's happened here? What has she even done that would garner anyone's dedication? Though he thinks of his past conversation with Jinx and... no doubt Sleep will try to dangle carrots in other's faces to get their devotion.]

We taking a poll?

[deathstealer]

[ Ranni's approval of his lack of worship comes in clear through the Murmur, a brief lightning of her ever-present chill. ]

I do not feel as harshly toward her as some--

[ Sleep had been kind enough during their meeting, in the same way a child plays with a toy they love and do not want to break. Sister, in another world, she had been called. Still, Ranni holds no illusions about Sleep's potential cruelty. ]

But I am glad thee resist.
I seek not a poll in particular,
but opinions of those who have come to love her.
Dost thou know of any?

[vocalistyodels]

[Cooper can understand people not hating Sleep or wanting to find something from her. Getting something. Whether through admiration or selfishness.

But there's always some catch. At least with Ranni she still understands that, in some regard.]

Love might be a strong word, but... the girl with blue hair, erratic, manic. Jinx. I'm sure you didn't miss her over our little connection before.

[He and others had badgered her about doing Sleep's bidding when it came to One. Guess that backfired.]

Asking about One and sacrifice and all that.

[deathstealer]

[ Yes, Ranni has certainly felt the girl over the Murmur before, but her energy had been so discordant that Ranni had largely stayed away from her presence. ]

Oh?
Might thee share a recollection of the conversation?
I would be intrigued to know
what others think of One and his sacrifice.

[tequila_sunset]

Voice and more travels through the murmur, sensations, feelings, impressions of color that dance and fluctuate behind the eyelids.

“I love her. I worship her. She saved me.”

A guarded feeling. A flash of red. Bitterness, something tender and raw. Teeth grinding together.

“I don’t expect to be understood.”

[deathstealer]

[ Ranni's intrigue comes through as the reflection in icy water, snow crowding in around the edge of a mirrored puddle. ]

Oh?
Perhaps I may not sympathize,
but I would seek to understand.
What did that god save thee from?
A grisly end?
Loneliness, perhaps?

cw: ableism

[tequila_sunset]

Like a defensive animal uncurling…slowly a series of images and sensations start to form.

It's cold, an early March still clinging to Winter. Ice bobs in the sea. The wind burns against his exposed skin. Salt. There’s no way to get warm, no way to get truly dry in this weather. The harbor horns sing, the world is written in grey.

His body is nothing but a small shape in this infinite landscape, its definitions are written in pain. A freshly cracked hip and an open wound made of fire and gunpowder that screams with each step. The heat of the infection radiates under his clothes. Strange aches that he can’t explain, can’t find answers for that keep him up at night. Then there's the grief, the guilt, a constant weight in his stomach.

Figures in black materialize from the grey: The Second Tribunal begins. The scarred wood of an old dock under his feet creaks. They make him stand the entire time, and he feels like he’s swaying at the gallows. The humiliation lasts forever. Can he go potty by himself? The executioner asks. His face burns, but he still has hope. They won’t leave him here, they'll take him to a hospital or back to his apartment. He gave them eighteen years of his life and that means something. It has to mean something in the end. Kim said it.

(The name 'Kim' carries more grief, more guilt. The smell of blood and burnt flesh, the weight of a body falling on top of his.)

They leave him. The motorcar rattles away.

Kilometers to the south a dead dog lies, cooling in the tall yellow grass. Dead dog. Dead. Dog. Dead dog. The words repeat. Dead dog. Dead dog.

“I was going to die. They left me.”

It's still raw. The scared animal is still turning it over in his many minds, still trying to understand. To pick apart what happened.

[saudades]

[A soft thoughtful hum, through the murmur.]

Is it love, I wonder ... or simply a gilded cage, a treasure box for her favorite toys?

[deathstealer]

To her, it may truly be a profound love,
the only way she is capable.
To others, I suspect it is the love of a girl toward her dolls;
the love of a keeper toward their caged birds.
This is, perhaps, not Sleep's fault--
many gods are born so stunted in feeling.