Loading...... Prayer.exe

[fourthmade]

This is a place to send your prayers to the Fourth god. He may not always respond, or he may respond in ways you don’t expect, but he is always listening.

Speak, he hears you.

OOC note:  As of April 2020, threads with the gods will be capped at three NPC replies! Please keep this in mind when writing god prayers to make sure you get everything you need out of the thread.It’s also possible to handwave prayers by titling your comment HANDWAVED PRAYER. Handwaved prayers lack our usual flourish, but you can expect a faster response!

As of February 2024, god prayers will be handwaved only. Please only submit a prayer if you have a question for either god which needs answering in order to progress your character's arc within Ryslig. If this is something you need to tier up within the god boon system, or just to set up a player plot in general, please don't hesitate to submit a prayer about it! You may shorten it down to an OOC summary of what your character is asking. This will allow any of our helper mods to reply much faster, without having to dig into the specifics of either god's personality/writing quirks. Should this limitation be lifted again in the future, this note will be removed.

Comments

backdated to late june

[marcato]

[On June 30th, Aunamee throws a corpse into the Arcade before slamming the door shut, its hinges rattling with the force. He breathes quickly, greedily despite his lack of lungs, fighting the urge to step inside himself. He could do it; he could visit Elias at the source, tearing the wires from his scrawny form, plunging the knife into the being who brought him to this godforsaken world.

But he shouldn't.

He tears Makoto's arcade card down the middle before shoving it in his pocket. Her backpack, discarded and bloody, leaves an imprint in his mind, and before he knows it, he's upending it, letting the laptop fall out onto the blood-soaked asphalt below.

He opens it with his foot. The screen lights up.]

Are you there, Elias? You miserable little gnat.

[He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he stomps down on the laptop, the screen crunching under his weight.]

[fourthmade]

[Bad move.

The screen crunches and snaps. Sparks fly. Sparks shoot all the way up and wrap tightly around Aunamee's pristine white leg. Electricity courses through the limbs, the core, the extremities, and locks him in place.

Hot. Sizzling. The marrow broils beneath those unstained vestments.

A crackle bursts in Aunamee's helmeted skull. It's laughter, pure and uninhibited like only a child can laugh. And Elias speaks to Aunamee directly, words scrolling across the inside of his mind.]

im sorry
does that hurt?
thats too bad
cant hurt as bad as you hurt my friend

i was watching you
i saw you when you stalked her
and i saw when you killed her

i know you saw me too

and i dont mind
because now
theres no chance shell turn any way but my way
ever
again

[Aunamee must be numbing out by now, nothing but pins and needles scrabbling across his bones. Tendrils of electricity squeeze that captive leg. Unseen to the murderous lich, wires and machines tend to Makoto's lifeless body and carefully moves her to regenerate, safe and secure, inside her own room. A new keycard will be waiting for her at her bedside table.]

maybe i should thank you for that
for helping me
fog priest

[marcato]

[He's been stabbed before. He's been shot. Never before has he felt so close to death without actually dying, the frigid numbness of the electricity swallowing his body. He tries to picture his phylactery in his mind -- seeing it is the first step in demanifesting himself and escaping from this -- but he can't. The pain makes his thoughts incomplete, a frenetic staccato of images and emotions.

He sees the words. He feels Elias' presence in the back of his mind.

Humiliation doesn't begin cover it. Terror is closer.

And rage. Oh, how there's rage.

It takes him ten agonizing seconds to disconnect his lower leg from the rest of his body, willfully letting his knee fall out of place. The rest of his body crumples to the ground.]

[fourthmade]

[When the last of the sparks die back, the leg collapses. If Elias is lucky an enterprising stray dog will smell the cooked marrow and come to play a quick game of fetch. Wouldn't that be nice?]

sorry about that
i hope you feel a little bit closer
to god
thats what you want but youll never really make it

;)

because what can you promise that i cant do?

shes not a friend
she doesnt make sure that her favorite monsters
keep all their memories after they lose a few lives

not like me
i give a tactical advantage
dying doesnt have to be a problem
when you can remember everything
and you dont do the same thing twice

thats the advantage

remembering everything

it means you wont win

[The voice in Aunamee's head fades as the crackle in the laptop dims. It clings for purchase stubbornly, communicating in the best way Elias can, so close to his stronghold. He is quiet enough to sound like a whisper of a boy asking his parent the Tough Questions, late at night, when all the lights are out and everyone should be sleeping.]

do you know
whatll happen to you
when the fog dies
and you have nothing
and my friends and i
have everything?

[marcato]

[He drags his detached leg off the laptop without touching it, his body magic spasmodic and imprecise. Because of his pant leg (no longer pure white, now stained and charred with his own bones), it looks like his leg is unnaturally long and crooked. The rest of his body is out of alignment as well. His hips are twisted. His rib cage is sagging. ]

Stop speaking.

[His voice is a raw, blistered version of its former self. He clutches at his helm with his bare, skeletal hands.

When he closes his eyes, the text is still there.

A scream wrenches itself from his lungs. ]

Get out of my fucking head!

[fourthmade]

sore loser :)

[The crackle fades fast. Finally, the laptop is starting to fizzle out with laughter, so Elias's words ghost, sketchy and fleeting, in a parting blow.]

goodbye

a r i e l

n o t

im always listening

p l a y a g a i n s o o n

[The static cuts.]