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

May like, 22nd

[hellawrath]

Things have been kinda... off, since the whole Bliss shit went down. In camp, and on the island in general really, there's a heavy, uncomfortable vibe. Some people shrugged off their fantasies like they were just a wild ride through some weirdass fantasy Freudian nonsense, while others... haven't. It's not as simple as setting a god on fire and going back to island time after all that, turns out.

So Lup ends up wandering deeper into the temple than she usually has any business going, until she finds herself in the Chamber of Glyphs. Ren made her check it out once after she'd found it, but she hasn't been back since. It's really something, though. She admires it for a bit, until the two clay pots in her arms are getting too heavy to haul around. One holds a few small tree saplings, the other a mix of blooming flowers.

"We've uh, been grabbing what we can off Ziziphus, since we're guessing it's not gonna be around forever. Can't let all that garlic and those strawberries go to waste, right?" she chuckles a little, quiet in the cavernous room. "Thing is, I don't actually know what to like, do, with these? I mean I could ask our botanists, we got a few of those now, but-- I thought you might have a place for them." And she quickly sets down the pots, drops her knapsack off her shoulder and shakes two mosslings out of it. The leafy lil critters hustle off into a dark corner.

She's just gonna, hang out here for a bit. And if she eventually starts doodling two grinning elves surrounded by levitating sparkling vegetables and an adoring, hungry camp fam, it's not like anyone's gotta know.

[story_teller]

There is seemingly no response from the god she speaks to, left to her own devices for some time. In the midst of her preoccupation in sketching out her family, however, she may notice movement out of the corner of her eyes.

The horned rabbit approaches the mosslings with a tired, loping motion, seemingly not perturbed by the way the creatures tremble and push themselves into the darkened corner in an attempt to escape. Touching the tip of their horns against the wall, moss sprouts quickly, coating a square foot of the wall in a green carpet that the mosslings- terrified, starving little things- set upon as soon as the god has moved away.

At that point, the Storyteller simply watches the two, head bowed under the weight of an exhaustion she's doubtless never seen them carry before. The trees and flowers are also lovely, Lup. Really.

[hellawrath]

Her ears pick up the rustling of paws on the stone floor and she pauses in her doodling to glance over her shoulder, silently watching their gentle conduct with the frightened moss creatures. They look... hoo boy. They look awful, pretty much. Small, haggard, not even after the crystal disaster had they seemed so-- so beaten. She shuffles around in her seat on the ground to face them, careful not to disturb their watch of what's left of Ziziphus.

She remembers the huge ink-black storm cloud gathering over the battle. The flash of unnatural lightning and the smell of burnt paper mixing with all the rot, heralding the end of another god's life. And she remembers what they'd said to her - Save our people.

Well, she's certainly gonna try.

"Wanna talk?"

[story_teller]

"...It is difficult to think of anything to say." They admit dully, eyes closing. It seemed such a small amount of time since her arrival, since the caverns, and now-

"Perhaps, selfishly, I had hoped to never see this loss again. That stories would die out, long before anything else..."

But that is not the way the world works. Life continues. Old practices are discarded, technology blossoms and tradition dies out. Regardless of what is left behind, one thing remains eternal. There is always a story to tell.

There is always a need for a Storyteller.

The mosslings scurry back to their corner, seemingly satisfied with what sustenance they've managed to peel away from the wall.

[hellawrath]

It is pretty wild, to look back at the fucking caverns and now here she is, heartbroken for their grief. Here to offer whatever comfort and company she can give them, unquestioningly. So much has changed in a few short months, but honestly? It doesn't feel weird, not the way it had when she'd talked to them about loss and what she'd experienced on the floating islands, to be open with them, to be-- their friend. Lup's not exactly prone to doubts in the first place, and there's none now either - they've earned every bit of her compassion.

"You're tired," she says softly, nodding in understanding. "You do your best, you go on for-- for so fucking long, you keep fighting... And people keep dying anyway, people you feel responsible for, people you care about." There's nothing uplifting to follow this up with, it just. It sucks. It hurts, it makes you question yourself, it's-- so tiring.

Lup puts the chalk down and lifts her arms a little, offering a perfectly good lap to the small rabbit. Just like, if they were looking for a place to sit.

"I've been to worlds without stories, you know. These lifeless places without anybody to tell them or-- or to remember them, to keep them safe. You don't really want that for your home, little buddy."