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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Comments

18th August

[lightlessfuture]

There are flowers everywhere; the temple is blooming.

The Knight might have enjoyed it once, but not now. The little hooded figure stops frequently to stare, free of blooms but -- disquieted, to say the least, that they have wound themselves so tightly into this place.

Is the god ill, too? They don't know. But gods can weaken, they can sicken (Grimm was proof enough of that). So they approach the altar, and as they did before, they wait.

They have nothing to bring, this time. Even if they had devised an offering, they wouldn't know what to do with it. What do you give, to make an illness better?

Words, which they have little of. Medicine, which is...a dicey proposition at best (and hadn't worked, apparently). A sword?

No, not a sword. Not the only end they have given, time and time again.

Perhaps something else, then.

So they sit and wait, as they did before. Curled up against the altar.

[story_teller]

Their entrance is not so grand as to distort the very fabric of space before the Knight's very eyes, not this time. Instead, it's somewhat anticlimactic, the Storyteller's claws clicking against stone as they round the altar to their champion's left, a canine's visage marred by the flowers that consume one side of their face. The variety of blooms adorning their body is as wide as that which has made a home across the temple.

Saying nothing, the Storyteller sits, looking through the open archway to the courtyard beyond. It is... a nice enough day, today. The sun is shining.



Should the Knight have anything to say, they know they will be heard. As they have been prior.

[lightlessfuture]

They move slightly at the Storyteller's approach, noticing the flowers that riddle their entire body, that burst out of their face. So they are sick.

No, they have nothing to say. Not this time.

"We knights defend against the physical, but a formless enemy. How to defeat such a foe?"

They rise and walk to the Storyteller's side, choosing to sit beside them instead. After a moment, they lean into the god's fur, ignoring the flowers sprouting from them; holding on with a firm grip. After a moment, they pat them a little, as if attempting to say 'there, there'.

No ceremony, no elaborate offering. Only simple affection, as best they're able.