[Days pass, then weeks, and still Yuuri hears nothing. Her offering is taken in stony silence, it seems; not even a hint of the fog's approval is given. For these two and a half months, Yuuri is only rewarded with quiet.
And then, one evening, she will finally feel it - the fog, moving in and around her. Any lit candles are burnt out; any lights inside are snuffed away. In the darkness, the fog envelops Yuuri, and a feeling of cool warmth arises.
She is here.]
Child. Yuuri. [She uses the girl's first name, and in it she imparts a grand weight. This is no coincidence - this is meant to honor her.] You have slain a heretic. You have worked to rebuild that which was lost. You have brought your wondrous tribute to me, and I wish to reward you. But... I am sorry, child. There will be no celebration in Dyster tonight.
[Through the warmth, the fog takes shape - one arm, and then another, slowly encircling Yuuri. The goddess's voice is frustrated, angry, but never at the girl in her arms. Not now.]
A grand monument was lost to us. There are no celebrants to heap praise upon you - there are only mourners. Instead of wine and song, I hear only the wails of the anguished, and their prayers for the ones whose memory has been lost.
[The pressure from the arms becomes almost painful, for a moment - like the goddess is clutching Yuuri, desperate for the anchor.]
And so, in their stead... tonight, I will sing your praises.
[Throughout the peninsula, a cold wind begins to blow. It dashes through the trees, over the sandy beaches, across and through the broken mountains, and with each turn on its waving path it sounds off loud and keen. A high wail, somewhere between whistle and whisper, makes its way across Ryslig. It sings of unrest. It sings of uncertainty.
It sings the song of a pyrrhic victory, won in the midst of great tribulations.
As the wind wails, her hold on Yuuri loosens. Soon, there is only that cool breeze and gentle warmth to remind her of who has come. She speaks quietly, a resolute edge in her voice:]
If you see him... either of them... They are too far gone. They have moved to strike me down, and in doing so they fall from my favor. I will never accept them into my fold.
[She doesn't need to add any more than that.]
Farewell, Yuuri.
[The wind does not stop for hours. It is the least she can do for her child. When the fog has departed, Yuuri will find herself with her new powers - and an innate knowledge of how to use them.]
no subject
And then, one evening, she will finally feel it - the fog, moving in and around her. Any lit candles are burnt out; any lights inside are snuffed away. In the darkness, the fog envelops Yuuri, and a feeling of cool warmth arises.
She is here.]
Child. Yuuri. [She uses the girl's first name, and in it she imparts a grand weight. This is no coincidence - this is meant to honor her.] You have slain a heretic. You have worked to rebuild that which was lost. You have brought your wondrous tribute to me, and I wish to reward you. But... I am sorry, child. There will be no celebration in Dyster tonight.
[Through the warmth, the fog takes shape - one arm, and then another, slowly encircling Yuuri. The goddess's voice is frustrated, angry, but never at the girl in her arms. Not now.]
A grand monument was lost to us. There are no celebrants to heap praise upon you - there are only mourners. Instead of wine and song, I hear only the wails of the anguished, and their prayers for the ones whose memory has been lost.
[The pressure from the arms becomes almost painful, for a moment - like the goddess is clutching Yuuri, desperate for the anchor.]
And so, in their stead... tonight, I will sing your praises.
[Throughout the peninsula, a cold wind begins to blow. It dashes through the trees, over the sandy beaches, across and through the broken mountains, and with each turn on its waving path it sounds off loud and keen. A high wail, somewhere between whistle and whisper, makes its way across Ryslig. It sings of unrest. It sings of uncertainty.
It sings the song of a pyrrhic victory, won in the midst of great tribulations.
As the wind wails, her hold on Yuuri loosens. Soon, there is only that cool breeze and gentle warmth to remind her of who has come. She speaks quietly, a resolute edge in her voice:]
If you see him... either of them... They are too far gone. They have moved to strike me down, and in doing so they fall from my favor. I will never accept them into my fold.
[She doesn't need to add any more than that.]
Farewell, Yuuri.
[The wind does not stop for hours. It is the least she can do for her child. When the fog has departed, Yuuri will find herself with her new powers - and an innate knowledge of how to use them.]