awashlogs | Event Seventeen.

[ She reflects his smile....

But, there is another truth beyond her curiosity of his godhood and how his abilities work-- that if he had some sort of ultimate miracle power without control to whom he'd grant wishes--.... well, she would wish for her existence to be erased. Still, it's amazing that he would even bother answering any prayers at all. Because she remembers how some of the people worshiped; and yes, she remembers them lighting incense, or decorating graves with flowers, or even singing hymns for a ceremony or festival. It's just that she never understood it back then as to why humans would do these things, of what they meant or symbolized.

She had thought it... pointless, even silly, all those little rituals. Because she knew the god would not acknowledge their prayers. ]

Oh, Xie Lian... My world would have honored you like the highest god for your generosity, had you been a part of it.

[Hearing that compliment...Xie Lian squeezes out an awkward laugh, waving his hands dismissively.]

Oh no, I'm really not that great, I don't think there's a single god lower than me in my world...

[He can still remember his first day back to heaven, barely a month ago - the secret bets on how long he'd last, the awkward silences in the communication array-- If a god like me could be honored in your world, then your people must truly be desperate, he thinks to himself.]

Thank you, really! I'll do my best to live up to your expectations. [Though I can't guarantee the results.] You mentioned a kitchen though? Perhaps we could find something else useful in there, spices or wines or something of the sort.

Of course. [ She sensing that she's embarrassing him.... And, aw, she's sorry about that, she only means to tell him that he's, well, he's so much more than what she's used to seeing in others. Especially for someone divine...

Anyway, gathering up the incense now, she places it into a bag she found earlier. ] I'm hoping to find more tea; I'm tired of boiling pine leaves and trying to pass it off as something decent. [ Except, because she is Pyra and she can even make rocks taste incredible, her pine-tea is something else regardless.

And then as they're on their way, she asks casually: ]

Oh, but--... after all this is done... would you be able to teach me how to pray? [ She says this as if she's asking him how to ride a bike. I.e., she's never done it before. But she's looking at him like it's something new and exciting to learn. ]

[It's true not all gods are saintly in their bearing, but...still. He collects trash for a living! Surely this girl has so much faith in him because she doesn't know all the rest! That's the reasonable thing to assume, yes.]

Tea leaves would be wonderful, honestly--I believe Shen Qingqiu made a comment on that as well, about preferring tea to drink if it was available. [Xie Lian would drink dirty melted snow without complaints, personally, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy the occasional luxury.

The casual way in which she asks how to pray, meanwhile, gets an equally casual reply.]

Of course! Have you not prayed before, Lady Pyra? I'd be happy to show you how, if that's the case.

[Honestly when he's with her he feels a little like a religious teacher, which--is close enough to his position? It's nice, anyway, to get to discuss a familiar subject with someone like this. (Though it also reminds him that he's rather out of the loop when it comes to what gods are actually out there, back home...)]

[ She shakes her head. ] No, I haven't. [ Is that such an odd thing? She hopes it isn't odd, because that would invite more questions as to why she hasn't so far. ]

But I always thought-- [ That it was pointless. ] ...Er, I never thought much about it, even if I've seen others pray. Then again, I haven't met a god like you before.

I'd like to learn how... [ Like where does one even begin to start to pray? Or what's the appropriate thing to do to pray? The traditions varies among the people depending on the Titans, so, is there even a wrong way to pray? She doesn't know. ] I wouldn't want to offend you, if I'm praying to you.

[He wouldn't fault her, if she'd said that out loud--he'd thought the same thing, when he was younger.

As it is, he just laughs.] Most people haven't, I'd think--meeting gods at all would generally be considered quite rare.

There's really no need to worry about offending me, either...but I'll do my best to teach you what you need to know, regardless. [Maybe even a few tips on how to not offend other gods? Though at this point it's hard to remember much himself. Hm.]

Well, my main questions are more along the lines of... do I have to bring a sheep to slaughter at your shrine before praying? Or cleanse my body beneath a waterfall first? Those sorts of things. [ THAT'S A HYPERBOLE, but maybe he gets the picture. ]

[what] Er. No, there's, ah...there's no need to go that far, really! Just light some incense, bow to the god's image, that sort of thing.

[Nothing extreme! Please.]

[ Her expression is clearly questioning— ] Only that...?

[ Hm. ] No singing? Hymns? I’m sorry for these questions; you’re very different from the god of my world.

Well, there's prayer, and the occasional chants, but...the temples are generally rather quiet, aside from that. It's a matter of respect, in a way--an average follower would light incense for their god, bow and kneel before them, and offer up their prayers. Donations are often given as well, and offerings of food...but I don't believe singing is all too common in Daoist temples.

[He scratches his cheek, thinking about how donations are kind of impossible here...food maybe? Somehow the idea of her offering food when she knows exactly who it's going to makes him feel a little awkward though, actually.]

[ Good because she doesn’t know any Daoist songs... ]

Mm.... [ A nod. ] Do you need any attendants? Maybe shrine maidens?

[She's so serious...devout? Is devout the right word here?]

Well, er. Considering the circumstances, I hadn't thought of more than a simple little shrine--I could attend to it myself, really, it wouldn't be much trouble, and you're the only one who would recognize the god it's for at this point, any--[another sneeze!

A broken piece of ceiling chooses this moment to fall straight towards his head, too.]

[ She won't hesitate to come up to him, reaching to brush off the dust and debris from the top of his head. There, there, it wasn't too big a piece of ceiling for a god, she assumes. He'll be alright.

And then her hand will move to place itself upon is forehead, the gesture oddly motherly. ] ...I wasn't aware that gods could become sick.

[It was a big enough piece to break skin, at least - but he doesn't visibly react, and if there's any blood it's not enough to be noticeable, so. He's fine!

That hand on his forehead, though...it's been a long time since anyone was anything vaguely resembling motherly to him, and in his current state of slowly increasing fatigue...he finds himself closing his eyes and leaning into it, just a bit, before he remembers himself enough to pull away.]

--It's, it's nothing, really! Just the dust, you know. Nothing to worry about.

[ That he's repeated himself in the same response about it being nothing really only makes her more concerned. Because it's not fine; aren't gods supposed to be infallible? Not prone to sickness, to such tangible things like mere dust?

A frown forms as he leans away from her, her hand left raised in the air for a few seconds more.

..... ]

Xie Lian, can I pray to you right now?

[The question is unexpected, causing him to pause a moment in surprise. Right now? To him, personally? It's...he's not sure if there's any sort of protocol for that, really. Could he count himself, a living person, as an image of the Xian Le Prince to be worshipped? But the Xian Le Prince is in fact himself, so maybe--he doesn't exactly have anything else on hand besides himself anyway, so--he realizes the thorn curse is what's making him feel off, but is it also the cause for this awkwardness? His thoughts are all over the place.]

...I, er, suppose you can. [Despite everything, he manages to keep the same smile on his face, steadying himself in front of his single follower.] I'm happy to listen to any prayers you have.

[ What did he say before... to bow and kneel before a god before beseeching them?

She's going to do just that. First a humble bow, a hand over her chest, closing her eyes as if she is paying penance. ] For my first petition... [ She doesn't know if she's doing this right, when she reaches for his hand to take into hers, and then slowly drops to her knees in front of him. ]

I... pray.... [ It's strange to even speak that word upon her tongue. But she understands it now, at least: it's a hope. She's hoping that something impossible might happen-- and she's passing that hope onto him for him to grant. ] for my friend, Xie Lian, to tell me if something is wrong.

[He's overcome with a sense of nostalgia, at the sight of her praying before him; the movements are wrong, a foreign sort of bow, a shock of surprise when she takes his hand in hers--but still it brings back memories of sitting invisible by his own statue, watching people bow to his image. And she's held his hand before, hasn't she? There's familiarity there too, a different kind, in seeing her like this before him.

So he listens, smiling, a little bit anxious, wondering what it is that would prompt her so suddenly to--

Ah.

Xie Lian's breath hitches, suddenly - momentarily - unable to formulate a proper reply. It's a prayer, the first prayer he's received in 800 years, the gestures wrong but the sincerity undeniable, and it's a prayer for something he's not sure he can actually grant--he doesn't trust himself to grant it. Not now, not the way he is, not when he can barely bring himself to acknowledge the pain of a papercut, all sense of hurt long since drowned in the numbness of acceptance and self-defeat--]

[...He's overthinking this. He hasn't felt feverish since he was a small child, the effects of the curse making it difficult for him to think straight, and this woman obviously just wants to know what's wrong with his current condition. He hesitates, still, willing his body to relax again, waiting until that little wave of unreadable emotions passes over his face and settles into simple, awkward embarrassment.]

...Lady Pyra...I suppose I can't deny a request as honest as that, can I? [He manages to squeeze out a little laugh, if a tired one.] I might have scratched myself earlier, in fact - the scratches have healed by now, but it seems the curse had somewhat of an effect after all.

[ What she knows about prayer is from an almost alien perspective: she's seen others do it, she's watched entire ceremonies; hell, she's been a part of them. But at the end of the day these prayers and rituals are what mortals have devised in their attempt to reach out to the divine, not the gods themselves.

...But is that so bad? Clearly it must work regardless-- or at least, it works for him. If she can believe, here, that it works in such a way, then it does no harm. ] ...I'm sorry. [ That he's cursed, but also for using this tactic to get him to speak.

Pyra stands and then, reaching for him,.... she'll bring him into a hug. One that's meant to be tender and comforting, an arm behind his back and the other going to his head to dip him towards her shoulder. Again like a parent to a child, because these are the hugs she knows how to give, for they are the only kind she's ever received from the one who first awakened her. ]

...But don't worry, it'll be okay.

[ She adds with a reassuring smile, voice quite. Of course she doesn't know that it will be okay, or that he'll be okay, but he needs to hear those words anyway. ] We'll find a way to break this curse.

[There it is again: that motherly touch, that gentle voice. He finds himself closing his eyes again, burying his face in her shoulder, childishly thinking: That's not fair. She took him unawares, her entire personality a weapon in itself, driving through cracks in what he'd thought was impregnable armor.

It's been years since he last visited his mother.]

...I...should be the sorry one. [He doesn't break away from her hug, doesn't return it, just lets himself be held for this short little moment.] I'm not much like a god, am I? I've even caught a cold.

[The tone in his voice sounds a little like he's laughing at himself. They'll break this curse, sure. This curse, but not the ones circling his limbs, chaining him to the dirt of the human realm. Does he even want them off? He's grown so used to it...he's fine like this. Everything's fine.

He'll be back to himself in a moment, once he's repeated that familiar mantra a few times in his head.]

[ He sounds so.... defeated right now, and that only makes her keep him within the hug. She recalls how she had felt that way right at the end of her time upon the earth, before she had been sealed, how he had tried to comfort her, and how empty she had felt.

Xie Lian must be feeling something similar to that right now, she imagines. And she doesn't want him to feel that way. Here is a person in her arms that is so good, a god, but he feels paradoxically small and fragile when she knows he is anything but. ]

No matter how many or or how few, that you answered any prayers in your world at all... it means the world to those people, I'm sure. [ After a pause, she adds: ] It means the world to me, that you've answered my only one.

[ There's a waver in her voice then, a slip of her smile. The god of her world would never answer her own. If she had to imagine what a god should be like-- it would be Xie Lian: caring, calm, compassionate, kind. ]

But... it's okay to rest, Xie Lian. [ She continues with a gentle reminder, and here she pulls away from the hug just a little, so that she might look at him. ] Just--.... rest, for now. No more answering prayers for today, okay? [ A chiding look as in don't make me tell you twice, but it's accompanied by an affectionate headpat. ] We're going to get you better.

[It feels strange, to have someone be so kind to him. The comfort of a simple embrace is familiar and yet so very, very foreign - it's been centuries since his parents died, since his people abandoned him, since his closest companions left him for the heavens. He's been alone for so long, so long, Pyra's actions are too much of a new thing for him to bear all at once. He's like a stray dog who's been kicked one too many times, unsure how to react when someone wants to pet him instead.

It's almost too easy to let himself be defeated by all this; but he does. He lets himself relax, laughing a bit at her words, sniffling slightly as she pats his head.] Thank you......I almost feel like I should be the one praying to you, today.

["Are you sure you're not a god yourself?" he's too tired to continue the joke, and simply settles with:] I'll be good.

[ That's the answer she wants to hear, and satisfied with that, she'll step away from him. ]

....C'mon. [ She tells him. ] I think I know of a way to help you, actually. But we have to get to the scullery first.

[ Which way, which wayyyyy.... well it doesn't matter what way where they choose to go because this place keeps on shifting. ] The answer is.... tea. [ She tells him. ] Somehow, it helped Maribelle when she drank it. I don't know how, maybe the tea here is magic. [ Whatever, she's not complaining. ] So we should just gather more of it, brew you a pot, and see if that works.

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