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Suffer No More [Closed||Karimah] Empty Suffer No More [Closed||Karimah]

Post by Hakuri Sat Jul 10, 2021 11:30 am

With every step she took, twigs and uneven earth crackled underfoot. The path the Anthro followed was much narrower than it once was. Reliable nature always reclaimed what was taken, if given enough time, and such was the case for the path to the chapel. Bushes and brambles had encroached from each side, snagging and ripping at the delicate fabric of a long, tattered skirt. The woman, fox ears graying at the tips to match the muted terracotta of her two tails, ambled along, occasionally swatting away the forest growth eager to swallow up the path she walked entirely. A basket hung on her free arm, filled with herbs, spices, and matches.

Though her children had begged her not to go, they didn't accompany her. The god she was visiting today was not one known to them, and though they could have simply walked with her in mindfulness of her advancing age, they were busy folk who hadn't endured what she had in her lengthy lifetime. Though her life had begun after the treaty was signed, the world hadn't changed in an instant once the war was over. Many Anthros remained slaves in secret, just as mistreated as in the old days. Her parents never tasted freedom, and such seemed to be her fate, as well. They taught her about an old god, one they prayed to along with others who suffered in life. Generation upon generation of her family had prayed to this god for the strength to endure their hardships, patience for relief, and perseverance that, one day, freedom would come. The god offered them peace where possible, even if it was just in the treks to the small chapel and a moment of quiet. The path had been kept wide and clean, and the dirt had been tamped smooth by the walk of suffering. She was free now, but that didn't mean she no longer needed the kind dragon spirit's grace.

The road to freedom had left its deep and permanent scars. No master commanded her now, but she was poor and frail. Her body did its best to fail her, and she barely had enough money for food, let alone medical care. Her knees ached and her spine was twisted, hence the cane and shuffling steps. Worse yet, she knew this would be her final trip. Disease riddled her beneath the skin. Soon her freedom would be taken from her again, at least physically. One last trip to burn incense for Vytr'valost and ask for the fortitude to endure her last days in as much comfort as possible would have to do.

***

It'd been a while since the last believer had come to visit.

Years had passed without a single tingle coursing through the lengthy spine buried beneath thick scales of brown and gold. Though the appearance of such a being was that of a fearsome dragon, benevolence sprung up like the cool waters of Fleuve'ir's river to those who burned incense in the name of Vytr'valost in the chapels, yet no seemed to need it anymore. Vytr'valost adored the herbs they brought from their gardens even though the deity suffered along with them with every tear. It was a bittersweet exchange, for the god wished to ease their suffering, but doing so silenced their voices and blew away the coveted scented smoke. It was a sacrifice Vytr'valost would make and had made apparently very well.

How was that elderly Kitsune that last visited? The god mulled that over in the deafening silence, her last pleas echoing endlessly without answer. Vytr'valost wasn't even sure how much time had passed, as time meant a good deal less to him than it did to the mortals he served. She was still alive, that much could be felt, but did she still suffer?

Just as the prayers used to course through the bones of the god's body, Vytr'valost felt it the day his chapel fell. The path to it was gone. There were no priests or priestesses to maintain it, nor any believers to repair it. It hurt as if the dragon's body were the rotten planks that crumpled alone in the forest, shaded by thick trees and unheard. Vytr'valost felt sorrow. Cavernous and lonesome, though it had been looming on the horizon for some time, the arrival of such a moment coiled the deity's body in on itself. Forgotten. The god had been forgotten. There was joy that Vyldermire seemed to be suffering no longer, but what did that mean for the minor deity? What would happen to a spirit to whom no one prayed?

It was then that Vytr'valost had an idea. If no one needed an ally on the other side of the supernatural veil, then it wouldn't hurt to pay a visit, would it? The dragon manifested into the mortal world, appearing in front of his ruined altar. The monstrous length of scales nearly leveled the emerald sea, but quickly took on the form of a mortal male. Fleshy and frail, the man stood and admired his abandoned place of worship with a wistful expression. It looked peaceful in its brokenness. It had served its purpose. He ran his fingers along the moss, marveling at the texture. Every experience was new and exciting. The breeze on his skin, the sound of leaves hushing each other, the scent of petrichor, it was all different in a human-esque body. He spent a lot of time there, adjusting to his new body and mourning with the sky in front of the rubble, but once the rain stopped, he rose and began his trek out of the woods.

The man, tall and perfectly pale with long, dark hair that fades to gold at the tips, emerged at the edge of Tilbur Village. He was naked as a newborn and with about as much knowledge of how to be a person as one. All he had was knowledge of Vyldermire's history, a few godly secrets, and a command of the spoken language. Everything else would be a fresh experience for the forgotten god!

[wc: 1014]
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Suffer No More [Closed||Karimah] Empty Re: Suffer No More [Closed||Karimah]

Post by Karimah Thu Aug 12, 2021 9:17 pm

Suffer No More [Closed||Karimah] Posting-temp

---



“It is just you and me,” she mused happily to nothing, panting, the smile on her face wider than a burning sunset. “Saeven must be so tired of me, little book, so we will do a little exploring on our own, to give him that space we all need from time to time. And then we will come rushing back to his side, bearing souvenirs of our travels together, spoiling him with mundane tales of our day. How does that sound? Do you think our elf friend would like that?”

It was, in fact, Karimah, who was running as fast as her lightweight outfit of a modern e-girl, and a small book under her arm, would allow, rendered more breathless than an old lady on a speeding treadmill, more breathless than a sloth in heat, more breathless than a—

“I wish to go back to my lamp. It is small, stuffy and the temperature is much more bearable there.” Gasped Karimah, her entire body collapsing upon the rough blades of grass to signify an early demise in the war on ruthless, cruel sunny weather.

Karimah was tired. She forced herself to lie on her back and gaze at the sun with a pouty, irritable look, then cracked her fingers like castanets. At that moment she was too exhausted from the heat to say anything more. She could not even fly back to the lamp for she possessed zero strength to do so.


The resounding crunch of feet upon the green grass demanded of her a rare vigilance. Before she could gain a better insight of what managed to lure her out of this endless daze, this incredible heat spell, Karimah sat up sluggishly with head hanging, with skin gleaming a thin layer of sweat. Peering through curtains of silver, her brown eyes appeared incredibly unfocused in a span of one quick passing minute, as blurred visions of lush trees, flowers and a small blob of fair peach flashed gradually into view.

One of such things are not like the other.

A greater strive for focus followed. The poor girl began to sit straighter, and to question such poor sight. It was because of the peculiar visage that the mystery was to be enacted. She dropped her eyes and shook her head doubtfully. Then she raised them again with that air of hesitation, and, while she did, a great wind blew her hair back and brought the genie back to the present, or so she thought.

Clarity entered, then, caused her to ponder life and death, as she entertained the concept of paradise and a death she couldn’t recall recall happening to her. Was it from that dreaded heatstroke that caused her to ascend spiritually? So she clumsily crawled toward the taker of her soul, and with the best grace in the world —which wasn’t an abundant skill Karimah possessed— she finally saw it.

She saw everything.

This was a mistake. She might have thought herself dead, but she could not deny that there were too many things out of place with this picture. This wasn’t punishment, and while this was a most godly visage, this also wasn’t a reward for living piously and justly. She allowed her eyes to travel up his legs, his stomach and then his face.

And then back to the area between his legs. Did this two times, took a little longer to peel her eyes away from that one spot, and immediately slapped herself across the face. She had to wake up, this was a very strange dream and it wasn’t one she asked for. With a bloodied nose, she moved back like a stair demon descending—- a most disturbing spider walk commenced as she began to scream loudly.

She screamed as if her life depended on it. “I am so sorry!” Cried Karimah hoarsely, as though her entire body played host to a thousand demons. “Do not look at me. I am a shameful woman!” Bits of grass clung to her hair, her skirt of green and her blouse of pink.




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Post by Hakuri Tue Sep 07, 2021 4:33 am

Once he emerged and took in the clearer landscape and unfiltered sunlight, he spotted something not traditionally constructed from the earth like the grass and wildflowers. A flush of silver. A humanoid, like the form he took now. A person. A...woman, he believed. Vytr'valost was conscious that he'd chosen the form of a humanoid man, and he wasn't sure of her race other than being reasonably certain she wasn't an Anthro. He didn't know of any races that had bodies exactly like hers (he had never seen clothes before and thought they were part of her skin).

Honestly, it didn't matter. The well-endowed man with the glistening perfect skin and long dark hair that lightened like golden spider silk at the ends was positively thrilled to have encountered someone so early. Excitement jolted through him, which was a bit alarming since he'd never felt such a thing before. A first meeting. The inaugural face-to-face. He just stood and looked at her, honestly forgetting that perhaps he should speak. The pair just met eyes and looked each other over, his expression soft, radiant, and comforting while the woman's was basically the opposite, creased with stress, shame, and torturous carnal interest. The god found nothing strange about this since the concept of lewdity was unknown to him. It wasn't until a beat or two later that a thought occurred to him and his eyes brightened. A conversation! He'd never spoken before. To anyone. He had command of the language from untold years of existence and prayers, but had only ever lent an understanding and silent ear. He could speak to her--

That excitement took a small break when the woman he very much wanted to try a conversation with smacked her hand against her face, then made quite the sound and skittered backward. He flinched, which was curious in itself. The rush in his veins was so interesting and strong, his attention was pulled from her to internalize his focus. Was he...scared? Was this fear? His honeyed eyes blinked a few times, then looked back to the woman who now spoke.

There was a long pause after that. A very long pause, as if he'd turned into a statue on the spot. The naked god stood and just gazed at her, heavily considering what he would say. It was very important after all. Vytr'valost's very first words released into the world of Vyldermire, something that could never be undone or done again. He must think carefully.

After an awkwardly long silence in the wake of her words, his lips finally parted and he inhaled, only to move his lips and sorta exhale pointlessly. He blinked again, raising a hand to his throat. He knew the language and the concept of speech, but he realized now he wasn't sure how to make it work.

"Hhhhh..."

"Nnnnh....eh...eee"

"Mmmm bah dah..."

"Hn a-hn mm...ahem..."


Clueless about how odd this must look and incapable of embarrassment at this point, the newly formed Gaiyan cleared his throat, wheezed, and made various other noises until he figured out how to command his vocal cords. Clearing this throat one last time, he made another attempt.

"Fear...not," he finally said, voice hoarse from inexperience. However, his face lit up as if he'd just discovered the most wonderful thing. Despite the hoarseness, his tone was wonderfully deep and warm, like a mug of creamy hot chocolate on a frigid winter's day. It was pleasant to his own ears to hear himself speak, and he instinctually hoped it'd be the same for others even though he hadn't made any conscious design of it.

Blissfully ignorant that his nudity was what was turning the woman into an eldritch-like creature, he took a step or two closer, eager to continue to practice speaking, though he said nothing else. All the normal conventions for a conversation or even a first meeting were unknown to him. He didn't know he was supposed to greet her, nor how to greet. There was so much to learn, and the creature of olde was eager to get to it, but that sadly meant a lot of awkward pauses and nudity for the silverette... and perhaps a persistent bloodied nose.

[wc: 700 || total: 3068]
Hakuri
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Suffer No More [Closed||Karimah] Empty Re: Suffer No More [Closed||Karimah]

Post by Karimah Wed Sep 15, 2021 9:29 pm

Suffer No More [Closed||Karimah] Posting-temp

---




Embarrassed Karimah fell on her back, crushing the bed of small wild flowers, and sat up, screaming when she still saw him standing there. “You are neither dressed nor phased,” she pointed out, not wanting to focus on anything else but his face, as she trembled like a leaf in the wind, “and I ask myself if that is a cause for concern or not.”

She jerked her head back and gripped the grass tightly, already quite wide eyed and filled with fear. She watched as the stark naked man opened his mouth to form curious drawn-out sounds. Was he clearing his throat or expressing a distinct dialect?

“I do not understand,” said Karimah, who was trying very hard to. No, he wasn’t speaking in a tribal language, she finally deduced as he proceeded to scare her some more with his throat clearing and his very out-of-place expressions.

And then he reassured her in words she could easily assimilate; she was still shaken up by his lack of shyness for his own nudity and shot him a look of disbelief. One eye seemed bigger than the other,  that small mouth remained slack with all the elegance of a squeaking snapping turtle, as she managed to sound human whilst she spoke through the immense discomfort of a blush rushing to her ears and face: “F-Fear not? I shouldn’t have to fear a naked man in the wild,” she said doubtfully, “is that what you are saying?”

“Oh, that cannot be. There is something terribly wrong with this picture,” she said in a small voice, “unless you mean to imply your clothes were stolen and you had not a spare to cover your masculine bits —- so you might have been forced to come see me for assistance. Then I—I suppose that would make more sense. P-Permit me a moment to restore your—-”

How was she supposed to help him when she couldn’t even bring herself to look down? She had to magic up the right size, the most plausible aesthetic and take into consideration all the possible accessories. She shielded her eyes for just a brief moment, but the instant she peered through the small space between her slender fingers to check on the stranger he seemed a tad closer to her than before. She slapped her hands over her mouth, an exaggerated gesture, as she screamed into her suddenly bloody palm and fell facedown on the grass. “You are indecent.” She mumbled into the greenery right before a bright idea flashed into her mind.

“I must flee.” She said simply and weakly, and as she was unable to stand up, she opted to quite literally roll across the pasture in the hopes that she could out-roll the danger. There was a bit of crimson upon the grass where her face had been, no thanks to her bloody nose.  


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Post by Hakuri Tue Sep 21, 2021 8:35 am

The woman crushing the deliciously smelling wildflowers asked him if she 'shouldn't fear a naked man in the wild', to which Vytr'valost thought she'd just understood what he said. He didn't know how to nod or smile, but his eyes brightened enough to indicate that he might have smiled, but it likewise retreated into tightened confusion that might have accomanied a frown or slackened jaw.

Something was wrong with the picture? What picture? He slowly looked around, seeing no painting or drawing. Stolen clothes? He'd had no clothes to steal. Masculine bits? What were masculine bits? Restore? He blinked, knowing he understood the words being said, but unable to string them together to make sense in his limited understanding of context, which was to say he had no context. The god was missing the most vital piece of info, being that nudity wasn't a social norm and his lack of clothing was distressing to her and possibly others and was at the heart for what he didn't understand was a very awkward and uncomfortable interaction.

Though confused, he still thought his very first conversation, in which he'd said exactly two words, was going splendidly!

And then she clapped her face, muffled her own scream, and buried her face into the grass and mussed flowers. His eyes widened slightly and he took about a half step back toward the woods before he realized he had no reason to retreat.

Did he do something wrong?

Naked. Indecent. It took the god a moment to process this new upload of context, digging deep into his vast detached knowledge for why the woman might have used such words against him, examining her tone, and why she still seemed so afraid though he'd told her not to fear. Did 'fear not' have a different meaning in these modern times? It had been a long while since he'd heard a prayer, and since he had no concept of time, it could have been anywhere from a day to ten-thousand years.

'I must flee' was perfectly clear, though. The rolling to accomplish this action seemed like an odd and inefficient choice, but he was glad for the slowness so he could try to remedy the situation. Honey eyes tracked her as she twisted away, eyeing the reappearance of the red as he calmly walked after her. There was a hint of stress on his features as he rushed to figure out how to respond under pressure. "Flee not!" he spoke emphatically, hoping it might stop her.

And so, the avatar followed the rolling woman on a squiggly, grass-flattened path, said masculine bits bouncing and waving in the wind as he tried to decide what he needed to do to end her escape. He had no clothing like hers, and the leaves and grass were too small for coverage. While new to interaction with mortals he may be, he was an intelligent and logical being, so he'd deduced that the indecency was tied to mortal reproductive organs being visible, which was probably why she was covering hers. "Apologies! I will remedy the indecency. Flee not," he insisted, finally happening across a poor flower she had steamrolled flat and thus large enough to block the offending appendage. He stooped to pick it up.

What followed was something he could have never predicted, but very quickly added to his memory for all of eternity. Not knowing his own strength and perhaps struggling with depth perception in this newly shrunken mortal form, when he rose the flower to his junkular area, he more or less punched himself in those perfectly shaped, impressively sized masculine bits and unlocked a new achievement: P  A  I  N. Having never felt pain before, let alone possibly one of the most devastating kinds a man could feel, his beautiful, hot cocoa voice rose an octave or two as a whimper forced its way out. His knees buckled. Now he was the one with his face in the grass, luscious brown and gold hair cascading over his shoulders, back, and exposed rear as he bent over with his hands now much much much much more gingerly carressing the sensitive weak spot behind the flower petals he'd tried to place there for her sake.

"....why...?" the god wheezed, also learning that eyes and noses could leak.

[wc: 718 || total: 4264]
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Post by Karimah Thu Sep 30, 2021 12:17 am

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---




She kept rolling as though no soul on earth could catch her. It was not the most well thought out course of action. By all means, so far from being the wisest method of escape, she was unreservedly beside herself. It was an act of pure desperation. She was anxious and drowning in the quicksand of her own embarrassment.

Even the truly empathetic cry of the naked man was lost on Karimah as snippets of the offending appendage flashed into her mind with all the tenaciousness of only the most mischievous poltergeist to ever coexist with her silent perversions and logical fear.

He followed after the runaway burrito and began to apologize sensibly and to seek the aforementioned remedy. The human-looking wrap was a wild blur on speed no more, for she was lying on her side, panting and trembling erratically. Tired as she was, she found a moment to magic the disgusting display of blood from her face.

The only flower big enough to conceal the monster was one she ruthlessly crushed with her lithe frame. When he stooped to pick it up, Karimah ceased the pitiful theatrics and stared out of genuine concern for the fortuitous delinquent.

He sang of his suffering, and she serenaded him of her surprise and bewilderment. Such crooning resembled a shrill gasp that matched his pitch perfectly and with it, an interpretive dance called ‘flinching’ as she witnessed the untimely demise of his manhood. He sank faster than the Titanic, and the strings of her heart sounded the whine of three somber violinists plummeting to their deaths with dignity, refinement, and sorrow.

“I will tell you why and flee not,” said the djinn with a strange tenderness in her voice, nervous fingers passed through her garden of silvery hair as honeyed-brown orbs knew not where to settle, and on all fours did she crawl just a little closer, albeit, shifty-eyed and docile as she concentrated hard on the grass before them. She sat there upon her knees. “Y-You may have harmed yourself in passing. Please take this and press it carefully to the place of injury,” sparing him a sympathetic glance, she summoned an ice pack wrapped in a thin towel and waved away the blue smoke with an unoccupied hand. “This should numb the pain and reduce eventual inflammation. Drop the flowers, please, as you will need considerable space to do what you must.”

While mature enough to offer him assistance and keep her prying eyes to herself, she would not guide it to the sore spot for him. Not that he had expected her to, of that she was quite sure, but she respected certain established boundaries (though her nose told a different story much earlier than this).

Blushing and sweating under the unbearable heat of the glowing sun, she questioned her sanity and in her hand was a handkerchief to be used on the naked wanderer.  She was hesitant, pausing every time her hand neared the side of his face, the faltering caused by a past experience she was somewhat reliving in her head, but she pushed through that fear with the power of pure pity, much of which she harbored for the young man.

Karimah pushed back the bright, luscious locks from his pretty face with just the right softness and smoothed away the tears from his glossy eyes with the gentle cloth. The sympathetic jinni, I’m addition to patting his cheeks, proceeded to fold it afresh and dab the pale handkerchief very lightly around the flesh of his little pink nose. “If you are not here to cause trouble,” there she was, giving him the benefit of a doubt, “then why are you out and about in the buff?”

Worried as to how rude she might have sounded, Karimah wanted to correct her mildly accusatory tone and adopt a kinder one, and so she shook her head dismissively and from the tips of her fingers hung a thin blanket to drape around his statuesque physique. She wrapped it around him whilst she spoke, “There,” she finally stood up and took a few steps back to analyze the unforgettable memory of his shape, his height and his general theme. “We need only to dress you,” Karimah’s fear was replaced with mild amusement.  “I will take your measurements, and you will tell me a little about yourself. Why don’t you start by giving me your name?”

She stood up.

With yet another wave of her hand, measuring tape flew at him with rapidity and hugged various parts of his body, every action gentle and appropriate. She rubbed her hands together, only just a touch excitedly as the numbers started to form in her head. “You remind me of a pretty autumn day. Soft, earthy tones would compliment your,” she paused for a moment and then continued to appreciate his features in a warm, quiet voice, “everything. A handsome face deserves only the prettiest leisurewear.”

Rolls of fabric materialized along with scissors that cut, strings that strung fine material together, all of which obeyed the laws of gravity not. Her tools moved quickly, sentiently and formed what seemed to be a beautifully designed set. A gorgeous top flowing coat, shirt, underwear, pants, socks and shoes indicated captivating workmanship. Contrary to how such an outfit looked, it was surprisingly lightweight, cooling and stylish.  Chocolate brown, golden yellow, jet black and pristine silver colors all made for a wonderful combination.

There were two other options of the like for him to choose from, but one seemed an icy blue and the spare was a blinding red. None of his choices ever touched the ground, and she made sure they hovered just a few inches above the grass, as though clinging to an invisible hanger, for him to observe and choose from.

“I hope it is to your liking. If they are, then you are more than welcome to keep any one of them,” asked Karimah with a modest bow of the head, “or every single one of them. Do not let me limit you. I will close my eyes on the count of three and you will use this time to decide.”

The Jinni tilted her head to the side with an involuntary giggle and started counting in her native tongue, “Wahid, itnan, talata…”

She did as she promised and closed her eyes, raising her chin a little, a small smile on her face as she laced her hands behind her back and hummed patiently. She only ceased the wordless ditty to inform him of one very small factor: “Once you are dressed from your head to your toes, please let me know so that I may see you with new eyes and a happy heart.”




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Post by Hakuri Sat Oct 09, 2021 3:42 am

Normally he might have been interested in how she was magicking things out of thin air, or maybe not, since for all he knew this was within the average person’s abilities, but probably so because, well, if anyone could provide anything, then why were man of the prayers that reached him for material things that people lacked? Neither here nor there, the forgotten god leaned up slightly as she neared and placed something cold and fabric into his hand, instructing him to replace the flower with it. He much more carefully did so, letting the petaled pancake drop and flinching at the cold against an area so sensitive. Surely enough, though, the coldness made the pain less intense, giving him a chance to raise his face more properly as he knelt there. As soon as he did so, her hands were smoothing his hair back from his damp face and using a cloth to wipe away the tears and snot. His eyes softened, thankful for her tenderness.

In his pause to carefully consider his answer as to why he’d emerged from the forest naked, she thankfully let the inquiry drop and instead moved on to clothing him. He was grateful that he didn’t need to scramble to come up with an alternative to “I’m a chapel-less god on a first-time voyage within a mortal avatar and didn’t know they were required”, since he didn’t really want anyone to know who he was. He wished to remain anonymous and take in an unbiased view of the world as it was today. Knowing one of the gods walked among them would probably not be good for anyone. The lady conjured him a blanket, which he wrapped tightly around himself, and asked him his name.

For the aforementioned reason, he couldn’t very well announce his divine name ‘Vytr'valost’. There was no way he could have positively assumed she wouldn’t recognize it since he didn’t know she was not of this world. Given the lack of prayers to him he was reasonably certain all had forgotten him, including this woman. He’d never heard her voice in prayers. He remembered every voice. Still, while she might not be a believer, he still didn’t want to take that chance.

But what should he call himself? Again, these were all firsts for the ascended being. Personal choices were new and difficult. Names were important, which was why it was such a big deal when they were forgotten. Perhaps something easier to remember for others? He wracked his brain for names he’d heard in prayers, once more taking too long to formulate an answer and she went on.

He ended up saying nothing and simply watching as something wrapped around the various parts of his body, apparently part of the process of getting garment that would fit him. More tools and materials appeared in a hands-free process of tailorship, a display he watched with intense interest. With speed and precision, all the parts worked together to produce a complete outfit within mere minutes. “Fascinating...” he rumbled to himself. Two more of different hues were produced as well, and he was given a choice.

Not being materialistic in the least for many reasons, the deity saw no reason to take more than he needed. He was instructed to dress himself while she curiously chanted words he didn’t understand, so he did so. Having never seen clothes before, he was grateful she had them floating in a way that indicated how they were intended to be worn. Though it took some time given his inexperience, soon enough he’d dressed himself in the lovely suit that matched the color of his god-form scales.

Vytr'valost stood before her now, dressed in the luxurious fabrics of browns, blacks, golds, and silvers. He used a ribbon to tie his hair back low on his head, effectively leaving only his shorter fringe to frame his face. Once he was certain he was indeed dressed from his head to his toes, he spoke again.

“You may look now with a happy heart, though I do not think new eyes are necessary,” the man said, taking her words a bit too literally. His fingers still fussed with a cufflink, but otherwise he stood stiffly awaiting inspection and approval.

He’d also been considering names for himself all this time and had finally decided on one. It was a common name for the children of his believers at the height of his days of worship so it seemed appropriate as well as easy. “My name is Hakuri. Do you have a name I may thank?”

[wc: 766 || total: 6152]
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Hakuri

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VylderGold : 209
Posts : 8
Join date : 2021-04-11

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