Inbox - Fade Rift

[nonvenomous]

Book/crystal/correspondence/action/whatever you desire.

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[sulahnan]

Well alright, then.

[ She hunkers down beside him in her own blanket club uniform, keeping her hands free for puff puff passing.

So she puffs, puffs again, and passes the joint over to Richard. ]

Is our petit espion with us tonight?

[nonvenomous]

[ Richard hisses an invitation under his breath, and Ribbon nudges out from his collar to see about it, a button of black at his throat that starts to emerge, feels the chill in the air, and seems to think better of it. She sinks s l o w l y back out of sight as Dick reaches from his blankets to take the offered joint. ]

Perhaps if we go in later, [ he says on her behalf, to assuage any disappointment before he tokes. ]

So, [ he says a beat later, still holding: ] The stars.

[sulahnan]

The stars, [ she nods and gestures skyward. ] They're up there.

[ There's yer problem right there. ]

[nonvenomous]

Yes. [ They are.

Dick lets go with a short cough and a clearing of his throat, with a shorter puff to follow, and so on. After nearly a year, the act has become routine. ]

Had you already been smoking?

[sulahnan]

Nah. Earlier, yeah, but not recent enough to matter.

[ Back to the sky. ]

I think this time of year there's only three or four constellations we can see.

[nonvenomous]

That’s alright.

[ He hands the joint back across. ]

Do humans defer to your existing arrangement, or have constellations of their own?

[sulahnan]

[ She scoffs and gives him a dubious look when she takes the doobie back. Doobius. ]

Nobody defers to elves for anything.

[ A drag, some smoke rings. ]

They renamed 'em and ignore that they were ever called anything else.

[nonvenomous]

[ Richard can only incline his head in acknowledgement that yes, he probably should have anticipated that was the case. The cushion of his hat makes it easier for him to rest his noggin against the rampart at his back, and he settles in the rest of the way where he’s sat, with a blanket around his shoulders and another under his seat. ]

Elves have the original claim, do they not?

[sulahnan]

I think so, yeah. But most of our history's been lost.

[ She hands off the joint again so she can fetch up the knife, give it a cursory wipe-down, and use it to slice the pie into wedges. ]

So mostly we use the regular Trade names for them, but the pictures they make are different.

[ Somehow because I'm not gonna describe flinging bits of floppy pie everywhere, the slice of apple pie she picks up stays together and barely dribbles. ]

So Voyager is an aravel instead of a ship and the Stallion is a halla, and so on.

tfw u realize u never posted the real tag

[nonvenomous]

Typical, [ says Richard, tightly. Athessa hands the joint over to him, and he tokes where he’s reclined, with some late thought given over to easing up the buttons at his collar and down his jacket. It’s clumsier work than it should be with his splinted hand, but the movements are already practiced. Easy enough to work in some airflow while he looks to the sky.

He’s clapped eyes on an illustration or two before bringing himself up to the tower tonight. He’s even been up here before on his own.

Still, utilizing a local expert is faster and more comprehensive. ]

Are any of them used for navigation?

i thought i dreamt the other one

[sulahnan]

They are, [ she has to wait to answer until she's done chewing. ]

Probably kinda the same way sailors use them. I'm pretty sure all the mentions of being guided by the gods in the songs my clan would sing are in reference to the stars, not the actual gods.

[ Athessa points to a specific formation of stars, tracing the outline with her finger in the air. ]

That one, Shadow, is depicted as an owl sometimes, a hawk others. The owl was Elgar'nan's sacred companion, and the hawk was Andruil's messenger. That's uh...the All-Father — also known as the God of Vengeance — and the Goddess of the Hunt.

[nonvenomous]

[ All these good, normal gods. ]

On my plane, one deity rising up to eradicate or dominate all others would be considered an act of overt evil. [ A fun fact, casually shared as he tilts to follow her finger. ]

Was there ever any documented conflict between your pantheon and the Maker?

[sulahnan]

If there is, I don't know about it.

[ Is he referring to the Maker as overtly evil, or the All-Father? ]

The most I know about the elven gods as they relate to the Chantry is that an elf by the name of Shartan was allied with Andraste and burned at the stake alongside her.

[nonvenomous]

For all of the good it did any of you. [ Richard evidently thinks the answer is apparent enough not to require clarification, bitter on her behalf. Thanks a lot, Shartan, 10/10 quality sacrifice with quality results.

One last long breath in, and he offers the joint back to her. ]

There are dozens of active deities where I’m from, [ he says, around held smoke. ] If not hundreds.

[sulahnan]

[ A conceding tip of her head. ]

It got us The Dales until the Chantry got sick of us and had an Exalted March.

[ She finishes off her slice of pie, wipes her hands off on her trousers, and gestures for the weed. ]

When you say active deities, does that mean they... like there's proof they aren't just stories?

[nonvenomous]

[ Joint met to gesture, Rcihard passes it, and hooks his reach down for the dagger instead, to cleave off the tip of a piece of the pie she’s already cut. ]

Clerics are conduits for the divine power of the gods that choose them. Depending upon the relationship, they might even communicate directly back and forth.

[ He leaves the knife in the pie, and snags up the one bite to push it into the side of his mouth, chewing matter-of-fact-like while he watches her. ]

idr if they've covered this already don't @ me

[sulahnan]

Is that what you are? Or were? A cleric?

[ Joint accepted for the tokin'. ]

i dont think they have at least not w specifics also *RICHARD

[nonvenomous]

[ Dick slants his brows in an unspoken, nebulous affirmative, and further nods before he swallows. A sniff, a pass of tongue over teeth, and he sets about the delicate process of sectioning off another small bite with his dagger. ]

I was initially angling for Dendar, [ he explains: ] the Nightmare Serpent, but Oghma had other ideas.

[sulahnan]

The Nightmare Serpent, huh. [ She echoes, getting a feel for the sound of it before she goes on to ask what might be stupid questions in Tassia. ]

So...Oghma chose you instead? What are they the god of? Do they speak to you in your head, or can everyone hear them and just not understand?

[nonvenomous]

Mm. [ The Nightmare Serpent. Dick separates off the snip of pie he’s cut, but leaves it where it lies, for now. ] Oghma is a god of knowledge, and learning.

[ And possibly truth, but most gods patronize many ideals and are more flexible on some of them than others. He lays the dagger flat across the remaining slice, and looks back aside to Athessa. ]

He makes his will known to me in dreams, and in omens. It took many years for me to understand what they were.

Fortunately he’s very patient.

[sulahnan]

[ A soft, sardonic laugh. ] Makes sense, you being so smart and all.

[ Of course that's not the only reason Richard is smart, but it's fitting. ]

Do you still have the dreams here? Or...are you...severed?

[nonvenomous]

Am I? [ is kinder than his impulse to take a dig at her in the realm of relatively speaking. Dry skepticism is enough; he is an idiot in this place, plebeian, with barely the motivation needed to pick up the basics of Orlesian. But that’s a lifetime of study rendered utterly irrelevant for you.

He goes ahead and puts that sliver of pie in his mouth to waylay a question he should’ve seen coming, and takes his time chewing. ]

Severed, [ he decides, confidently, once he’s swallowed. ]

[sulahnan]

Of course you are.

[ She wonders what that must be like, to know with such certainty that a deity is there, guiding you, only to be suddenly cut off from them. The likelihood that anyone in Riftwatch can accurately read Richard's mood at any given time is lower than rock bottom, but even so, Athessa doesn't think he's implied in any way that he prefers freedom from their influence than the alternative.

Which just makes it feel relatively safe to offer: ] I'm sorry. I can't imagine what that must be like.

[nonvenomous]

[ Partway through the process of sectioning off another bite of pie for himself, a strange, painful twist in his throat prompts him to pause. He swallows again, and then clears it. Cutting is resumed more intently than before, with an absent nod of thanks in aside for the sentiment.

The fuzzy lines around his mouth have bit in deep, grim for the table setting of weed and stars and pie.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. ]

[sulahnan]

[ That pause is hard to miss. The renewed intent when he resumes cutting the pie. There's no telling if it'd be more helpful, more comforting, for her to simply pretend she didn't notice, or if she should offer some further consolation than that.

So she splits the difference, somewhat. She reaches over to put a hand on his shoulder, a brief pat and squeeze before pointing skyward again with her other hand. ]

That one there, Silence, we see as a depiction of Mythal, holding a horn and a staff to represent scales, since she's the Great Protector and patron of justice.