IC INBOX: STORYTELLER

[story_teller]

   IC INBOX: THE STORYTELLER

The Storyteller's temple on the central island of Ensō is, unsurprisingly, where your local deity can most often be found. Those seeking to strike up a conversation or pursue the Storyteller for answers are not guaranteed an immediate answer, but they can certainly try. If one waits for long enough after posing a question, their expectation for a response from the deity in question may very well prompt them to happen along...eventually.

If you're looking to request an item, this is not the place to do it. Our Item Requests page is where you ought to pose those inquiries!

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code by photosynthesis

Comments

[lightlessfuture]

[ They - are not sure what they expect, to be honest. But they are a little...relieved, by the lack of fanfare. It feels - better, for a bond made in quiet trust.

(Is this what faith is? They are uncertain, but they do feel...different, in a strange, abstract way they can't quite pinpoint.)

They remain still to receive the Storyteller's words, that point of contact. (Of the two, it's the touch that they fix in their memory more.) They pick up the new charm with a careful reverence, tucking it away beneath their cloak for now. Later, they'll find a way to display it properly.

They retrieve their sword and sheathe it, before raising their hands to sign, in precise but slightly clumsy movements: ]

THANK-YOU

WILL-REMEMBER

[ Then they stand, and bow to the god that has accepted them into their service, and begin to walk away, leaving the temple.

Is their head held a little higher, their back a little straighter, perhaps? It's hard to tell; they are quite small. But they are proud to accept the duty, unknown and inscrutable though it might be. ]

[story_teller]

[The Storyteller dips their head once more, this time mirroring the bow, and move in conjunction to stand. As the knighted child leaves, their tiny footsteps fading down the corridor, the Storyteller watches after them until they can sense the presence no longer.]

[Finally, their gaze drops to the tome. A copy of the sigil lies imprinted on the page, scratched in bright and dark lines, blinking like a solar shine.]

[For several seconds. Then, the sigil fades. The page blankens and becomes naked once more. The Storyteller's tail winds around the tome, pulling it shut and drawing it to their side. ]

I am certain of it.

[And then, they are gone.]