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04-20-2017, 08:55 AM
god of the earth
The dragon’s delight at the magical stick he has been given temporary charge of draws a happy chuckle from the weary God. Having lost so much already for the sake of Helovia, and the people within, the Earth often found himself so distracted by the ongoing, seemingly endless bedlam and chaos of their magical world. So often, in fact, that it had become easy, as of late, to begin to feel a bit of sorrow weighing his heart down. Seeing Isopia’s relief to have not disappointed her father, and the cheer of his daughter’s bonded dragon at such a small boon as a burning stick…
It does much to ease an old man’s aching heart.
“You are quite welcome, Hubris,” he grins and nods to the cheerful bronze, glad that his daughter has such a gracious and good natured friend to share her life with. I believe you will guide her well with it's light.
He takes in her words knowingly, a soft smile crinkling the corner of his gaze and bringing to life every other line etched there permanently by the joy and sorrow this world brought him. Though she is surely a part of both, today, these folds represent joy, and pride. When she speaks of her compass, however, that smile becomes softer, more thoughtful, remembering of the day he had planted the seed of that now old Oak, and the times he had returned to tend to her, when she had still been growing. He certainly had never asked his old friend to look after his girl, but look after her she had, and the God was grateful to her, as he was to all those who did what was best.
“All things happen for a reason, my child, even if we cannot not see those purposes from where we now stand,” he consoles her, seeing her self doubt as she stumbles to collect her reasoning to set the paving on which she now stood, “when a boulder falls into place from its foothold on a mountain, it crushes all that it passes as it sweeps down, and leaves scars in the earth that, to the dirt and flowers and grass it has left behind, seems irreparably scarred. Yet, down that gouged furrow, the rain might flow, cast about the base of that boulder, to become a pond, which becomes a stream… And soon, more flowers grow than ever had before, where many had once foretold there would be never be flowers again. That boulder becomes a moss laden sanctuary, where creatures sleep in cool burrows tunneled under its protective slabs, and lounge atop its broad, cushioned face, and the world is better for it.”
His brother, Time, understood these concepts better than the Earth did, of course, but water and stone could teach a man much about patience, and fate, even if he could not view the river’s course itself. He does not know that his words somewhat mirror those that the tree shared with her, not the sort of prying person that his brother Time also is, but if he did, he wouldn’t be that surprised.
“You are welcome, Isopia, my daughter,” he smiles and nods to her, as she turns to leave, and the illusion that she is one with the world around her slips swiftly away, and he, too, begins to fade away, becoming leaves, pulled away by magical wind, one at a time. Drifting around Isopia lazily before sweeping out to sea, it as if the dancing foliage embraces her. “Farewell, until I see you again.”
It does much to ease an old man’s aching heart.
“You are quite welcome, Hubris,” he grins and nods to the cheerful bronze, glad that his daughter has such a gracious and good natured friend to share her life with. I believe you will guide her well with it's light.
He takes in her words knowingly, a soft smile crinkling the corner of his gaze and bringing to life every other line etched there permanently by the joy and sorrow this world brought him. Though she is surely a part of both, today, these folds represent joy, and pride. When she speaks of her compass, however, that smile becomes softer, more thoughtful, remembering of the day he had planted the seed of that now old Oak, and the times he had returned to tend to her, when she had still been growing. He certainly had never asked his old friend to look after his girl, but look after her she had, and the God was grateful to her, as he was to all those who did what was best.
“All things happen for a reason, my child, even if we cannot not see those purposes from where we now stand,” he consoles her, seeing her self doubt as she stumbles to collect her reasoning to set the paving on which she now stood, “when a boulder falls into place from its foothold on a mountain, it crushes all that it passes as it sweeps down, and leaves scars in the earth that, to the dirt and flowers and grass it has left behind, seems irreparably scarred. Yet, down that gouged furrow, the rain might flow, cast about the base of that boulder, to become a pond, which becomes a stream… And soon, more flowers grow than ever had before, where many had once foretold there would be never be flowers again. That boulder becomes a moss laden sanctuary, where creatures sleep in cool burrows tunneled under its protective slabs, and lounge atop its broad, cushioned face, and the world is better for it.”
His brother, Time, understood these concepts better than the Earth did, of course, but water and stone could teach a man much about patience, and fate, even if he could not view the river’s course itself. He does not know that his words somewhat mirror those that the tree shared with her, not the sort of prying person that his brother Time also is, but if he did, he wouldn’t be that surprised.
“You are welcome, Isopia, my daughter,” he smiles and nods to her, as she turns to leave, and the illusion that she is one with the world around her slips swiftly away, and he, too, begins to fade away, becoming leaves, pulled away by magical wind, one at a time. Drifting around Isopia lazily before sweeping out to sea, it as if the dancing foliage embraces her. “Farewell, until I see you again.”
