Quoted By:
You wish to know of the moon’s namesake, its history. You refuse to make your choice until you are given answers, you await their responses.
The carved form of home speaks first, compassion soaked melodies and smells of sweet wet earth. Your body involuntarily hums in place, muscles pulse and spasm to accordance to her speech. She talks to you gently, as if telling a secret to a child.
“though the world claims deafness, I yet hear the moon weep. An unwanted child of old, of ill conceptions, abandoned by its mother and spurned by its father. cast into this unforgiving plane. I wish it not upon anyone. rumor of cruelty smells of deceit, I see no harm within him. Only a wounded babe acting within its nature. A champion to the forsaken and abandoned seeds, the patron of all misbegotten, offering the nurture he could not receive. I have been cast from him for I see this truth, if you wish to bathe in moonlight I shall not stop you. But what burden is heavier than the responsibilities of divinity? You must not worry over such things.”
The scattered visage of the lumen distorts amongst the visible light at the words of Hope, making its discontent known through warbling growls. Yet it holds its tongue.
The ocean sovereign follows next, water logged croaks and chitterlings a thousand fold clutched within his rotting throat.
“Kin, what hasn’t he done to gain the name. Penance and agony a millennia fold, infinite souls cowering beneath the line and buckling against the weight of god’s will. Heed this lesson kin, you don’t harvest that much skin, bind that many chains, and forsake that many young without claiming a few curses to your name. Unification, conquest, it creates its share of detractors, generations lost pry foul utterings from the survivors’ tongues. It’s only natural.
Yet in his infinite domination, his gluttony unparalleled, the lord sought to conquer his own namesake, tearing the curse away from the downtrodden hordes. Embraced it, sanctified it, becoming the one and only bastard, and doing it proudly.
It’d be something to admire had he not scattered me to time, crushed me among the hordes in his grand subjugation. A foul one to the end if you ask me.”
The lumen grows ever more exhausted, the rich aromas of the slug’s wine stain its tongue.
