#░░☾ Words of wisdom bestowed to others; in character ☆

[wargod]

STARTER , @insurged 1/2 ✰ Garou

"I mean... You don't look great. But that's alright! Maybe people won't notice!" that relentless optimism was a plague. It held their tongue for the younger even though he was surely aware of the shameful state he stood in. So as long as he held himself tall and proud, he could make it work. Radiating confidence is key to trick others into a good impression, or intimidating impression. Dawa hummed to themself, patting the young man on the shoulder, having to extend their arm quite far to do so. "I would say don't move around too much or else the stitches will come undone, but~ That's a futile request isn't it?"

[wargod-a2]

@folkesange​ asked: [ dance ] !!

[ DANCE ] for your muse to dance with mine

THE CEASLESS HUM OF AN EMPTY VESSEL, full. There is a word for this they believe, a voidness (sunyata) where the voidness does not mean an emptiness per se but on a deeper level, disconnect from the physicality and all-ness of the world. In this instance however, perhaps the metaphor is too literal. But a beautiful concept to match a beautiful entity. Old friend of mine, we share time together once again.

Dawa doesn’t claim to know how to dance, not in the fashion many consider ‘ballroom’ or ‘swing’ instead they danced as the music came, or they danced to start a war, or end one, or they danced in a drunken flourish to sounds nobody else could hear. It was always solo or in a group but never a pair. There is an intimacy about that isn’t there? Perhaps, but the little deity now old and wizen, has matured enough to see past maybe naïve and single minded notions. For a dance is to be shared more often than not, together.

The two do not touch (a fear, that the light-giving one would surely be consumed by the black holes of her eyes, the crawling chaos of her skin and the static of her voice) instead they twirl senselessly around one another. Manic motions coupled with fluid movements, the music that cascades through their ears is enough. It’s all enough. The deity, now God, feels nostalgic for a time long ago. The pilgrimage that brought them together, parted them, and back again.

Truthfully, they have forgotten many things in their ascent to godhood. Their mind drained of memories and recollection proves to be fuzzy time and again. In order to retain the precious psyche Dawa had begun putting their memories into objects, things, creatures, and concepts that litter their re-blooming home world. For instance, their memory of a pleasant evening with their fellow monks and friends on their 9th birthday was placed in the small flowers you see sprout just about everywhere. Seen as weeds by most, when Dawa looks upon the cotton white flowers they feel a childish glee.

Dawa during their dance, their smile grows, and they laugh and laugh at both of their missteps and grandeur. They think to himself of what memories will go where. For where will he put her, Ginnugagap, for where that memory will go. Dawa cherishes all their friends and wants to place them somewhere meaningful, so even if their memory of them is gone, the feeling will remain.

“I’ve grown a bit haven’t I?” Dawa said between giggles, feeling a bit breathless from their endless ballet. “A tall and imposing deity I said I would be! Ha!” She need not answer immediately or at all. They continue, the music presses on. They were one to chatter, his yammering was full of excitement and the banter was delightful. “Your beloved, is he doing well? I thought I should get him a gift, does he like tapestries? I’ve woven a great deal of fabric lately-” Its fades and it fades, until there falls a silence when the music flickers out. Their feet stopped and she motioned to her dance partner to settle as well.

They have had a wonderful epiphany.

“One day I will forget you,”

Oh vast pitch black, the void from which everything sprung, where could I put your memory? The feeling you give me is that of comfort but an uneasiness if I were to think too hard of you. I remember as a child, and even now, when I close my eyes to sleep there is a brief darkness. The light behind my eyes fades so quickly and I am full entrenched in a darkness. It is that darkness I find comfort, whether I am closing my eyes to drift into slumber, or shutting them tight to believe ‘if I do not see it, it does not see me’. It is only the darkness of the shut eye where anyone can feel unafraid and cradled in its absoluteness. But to close your eyes once, there’s always a chance it may be your last.

“but your memory will continue in the short moments before I lay myself to rest.”

@folkesange​ 

[wargod]

STARTER , @lasraichean

"Do you think I could be evil? Be honest." It's subjective isn't it? One person's evil may be another person's logical. Another person's mercy. Another person's correct. There are going to be more 'evil' things than others of course. And there's going to be 'evil' that's more so just selfish than truly 'evil'. Dawa wonders about this. Wonders about their propensity for being mean or sketchy or really just selfish. For all they know they could be evil right now! (if this were the case they'd have a lot of thinking to do afterwards). The petite thing finds themself on the inside of one of those circular racks that holds clothing, head popping out from the layers of embroidered fabric and thrifted cloaks to look at the shoppe keep. "I MEAN, not like... evil evil. But you know... if I wanted to spice up my 'resume' so to speak- what if I tried on morally grey? I hear those anti-hero and anti-villains are popular. Am I too nice?"

[wargod]

❝ there is more about you than appears on the surface. ❞ from kaname / @njnth being perceptive

MEME ) …        no longer accepting !!   @xyuuken / @njnth

“  You think so?  ”  They inquire kindly. Their voice airy and cheerful as ever. Something about the tone implied flippantness, one ear and out the other. But it’s not that they did not hear or is not listening, because they are, always. Dawa’s demeanor tends to send an opposite message though. Often to their chagrin but in the company of this man they feel more confident in being understood. Didn’t even pause from crawling around in the dirt and brambles when Kaname spoke. Hand after hand after hand sifting through grass and twigs and fallen leaves. “  That’s flattering!  ”  Dawa exclaimed while simultaneously uprooting a rather large wild tuber. Between various carrots and roots that could be rutabaga or turnips or oca, they all taste fairly similar to them. Therefore all of them were good enough to eat! The one they ripped from the ground was larger than expected and ended in their bottom hitting the ground behind with a light ‘ OOF! ’ And what the monk was wearing certainly wasn’t proper attire for manual labor and foraging. 

“  Back home most everyone thinks of me as a simpleton!~  ”  Again spoken with an unnecessary brevity. Once again finding purchase on their feet Dawa collected the vegetables in their billowing sleeves. Intricately woven robes would now need to be deep cleaned of grass stains and mud. Looking as the mess they’ve made of themself Dawa’s expression did curdle like milk. Sour and nearly huffy but it simmered just as quickly as it came. More so upset at their lack of forethought. But a smile returned once they looked back at the man.

“  But it’s nice though, to be recognized like that~ I mean I know I am made of much more! Everyone is. But it’s still stinks to be treated like a one - trick - yak.  ” They use a clean part of their outer robe to wipe away accumulating sweat from their brow.  “  Because when they think of you in such narrow terms then suddenly you don’t matter at all! Like a paper doll stand - in for a person laid flat against the wall. Hmph~  ”  A harrumph that’s mimicked by a nearby bovine, a royally adorned yak grazing some ways away but still in earshot. 

Dawa shuffled out of the brush. “  Although it makes me curious what you felt was more about me.  ”  they continued with a hum, two hands now shifting their garb and removing baubles and dangling bits that should have been removed before. “  Oh, and would you mind if I undressed a little? Just by half! It’s occurred to me too late I probably should not have gotten these so filthy~  ”

[wargod]

“  APPARENTLY ‘SKY - DIVING’ IS A FAIRLY POPULAR ACTIVITY   amongst humans! it’s when they jump out of airplanes flying thousands of feet above the earth and they jump! falling to their deaths! they don’t usually die of course because they have parachutes. I don’t think it would be very popular if they did die every time.   ”    an astute observation.    “   It’s popular among adrenaline junkie types~ I think they would get two times the adrenaline if they just jumped without anything else and prayed to their Gods that they won’t go splat!    ”

☆          @kenpxchi​   (you did not like the startercall but in my heart you did therefore-)

[wargod]

k-kiss? 🥺

ASKS ) ...            unprompted / always accepting !!        @mellodiies

“  What are you looking so pathetic for?  ”    Dawa means no harm by this. We all look absolutely pathetic, washed up, and soggy every now and again. Even they, an entity so vain and callous about their standards of beauty and presentation, can be a mess on blue moons. However they looked at the blonde and saw exhaustion, irritability, and lack of drive. Which was odd, considering the young man. “  You know, I won’t accept prayers unless they’re full of elation and vigor!  ”  Not that they accept prayers at all. Dawa’s abilities start and end in only specific circumstances. But wishing upon them couldn’t hurt either. Dawa hummed, unfurling from their lotus position and stepping over to the disgruntled mafioso with hardly a noise.

“  There’s a kiss of Death, right? It’s so stingy for Death to keep kissing all for themself. I should start my own campaign~ ”  A hand shot out, grabbing the man’s disheveled bangs in a fist, yanking him forward so the godling could plant a kiss on his forehead. It left behind an amaranth red stain. “  Kiss of life is cute! But I’ve heard breath of life before too I think? I’m not versed in cpr so this will have to do!  ” Consider yourself blessed.

[wargod]

❝ what’s done cannot be undone. ❞

MEME ) . . .        accepting !! , @springuil

The past is the past. It’s done and over. It’s been done and over. Then why ruminate? Why be swallowed by regret, worries and what - ifs? What - ifs are like a disease. Those little inquiries, those pondering moments alone that fills them with dread and agony. Ha! Haha~ They’ll simply laugh it all away! Please, they know all too well of the permanence of their actions. Their mistakes and self - righteous whims. It sits in stone. But even stone can be broken. It could be written in the stars but even the stars may flicker out. It is a pain that has been seared into their skin and bone, body and soul, leaving a scar. It’s doesn’t matter that they know this. Because they do. Every day they’ll say    ‘ YOU MUST MOVE FORWARD  ’    but just speaking it isn’t enough. One must actually do it. 

Moving on is difficult. Some nights are harder than others. And some days their eyes burn from the sun having not gotten a wink of slumber in several weeks. They’re weary, and their disposition and weathered features show it. Dawa slouches over their loom, hands having been plucking at the same threads over and over and over again. Picking as one does their cuticles. Fraying a design laced into the fabric, pulling out the gold - entwined string. It wasn’t perfect, therefore it could not be made by them! The exhaustion made every sound grating, torturous. The irritation that has been mounting the prior weeks is about to reach a limit. Even a smooth, calm yet stern voice such as Thranduil was enough to spiral them into a rage at this moment.

And they sat. Inhale, exhale... the sound of wood splintering in their hands, cracking and collapsing. The loom buckles under their strength and the remaining tapestry is littered with dust and wood fragments. Dawa’s hands tremble, pin pricks of blood oozing from their palms as they just drop it to the floor. Inhale, exhale... those same reddened hands move to cover their face, obscuring the furrowed brow and ugly cries sure to come eventually.

“ I KNOW! I know... And I KNOW I should just accept that! Just move on! IS IT NOT SUPPOSED TO GET EASIER WITH TIME? Everyday is worse. It just gets worse and worse... ”    a deserving fate maybe. This was their punishment. There are beings who are able to live generations, live on for eonian, they are able to. Because they were meant to. Because they are strong. 

“ I- I was not made to be long living. One hundred years and change, that was supposed to be it. I thought it would be it. But I’m barely three hundred years into... however long and it’s so hard and I’m so tired and weak in every possible way. I WANT TO GO HOME- but there is none and I’m silly for still wanting that.”

[wargod]

STARTER , @viburni

The layers between here and there have grown thin. You could poke a hole straight through as if it were a sheet of damp paper. Over time those sheets will begin to layer over top of one another, forming a thick shell not unlike papier-mâché. But for now, if one knows where to poke one could fall into any number of worlds that have been weakened from within. Dawa spent their not-evening just like any other. No concept of time, milling about in a field seemingly searching for something they aren't quite sure of themself. But they know what isn't supposed to be. YOU, for one... At the apperance of another living entity that was not calf shaped or whale shaped or seemingly bestial at all, the deity felt as though struck with a lightning bolt. Their whole body jolted, stricken with fear and confusion. What are you supposed to say to someone after a very, very, very long time of not even speaking aloud? "... How did you get here?"

[wargod]

STARTER , @sayekh ( *for vex )

"But is it really? The world's BIGGEST potato? The world is quite big! I mean... there are bigger. Worlds, I mean. This one is still decent sized though!" They speak as if trying to backtrack a rude comment but the comment made was neither rude or inflammatory. Miraculously the deity's politeness had preserved despite the horrendous situation that they were subjected to for a handful of years. Even now, as they sit parked in a convertible just outside yet another roadside attraction, they can't help but be dazzled by this dinky little planet. Dawa was getting powdered sugar all over their outfit as they spoke, funnel cake leaving them looking like a confectionary themself. "Do you think there's a conference? An oversized produce tribunal?"

[wargod]

“ OKAY OKAY OKAY , we should be just about there- ”    if you meet a monk in your travels, with their shaved head becoming rabbit soft, donning saffron robes, unplucked and thick eyebrows with a moon-face; do not trust them. not for any serious reason. they’re well-meaning and kind-hearted, a hard-working monk who seems too anxious to be a monk at all. but when asking for directions, it would be best to have them tag along behind, because they are most certainly lost as well.

The landmark the two had passed was solidly in the spot they had left it earlier. Dawa stared at the rock formation with disbelief. every time this happens they’re always so shocked. although it not seems more like deflation and disappointment. “ UGH!!! ” they throw their head back with a loud groan. from huffing and puffing, to holding back tears, trying to radiate that aura of calmness serenity when obviously they’re upset. “ ... please! go on without me! I will instead let the animals gnaw on my bones- ”

☆ @glorykill​      

[wargod]

DID YOU KNOW? red is their favorite color. they would prattle off why it was their favorite: for passion and violence at once, for blood that is death and also life, for romance and roses and the sun when dire, red is intense, red is musky, red is sensual, red is versatile, mysterious, and bold. red is a fire and like how fire burns, anger swells and blood vessels break, and the blood spills and it’s saturated into earth’s core that is hot, molten, red. and then they’ll negate everything they just said by ending that diatribe with —

“ red feels best for me. so that’s probably all that really matters. ” with a smile. oh! red also indicates danger as well doesn’t it? they tend to forget that one because the godling doesn’t have great intuition on that front. we’ll see where that takes them. “ do you have any red dresses? ”

☆ @shedivine​      ,  for  alcina dimitrescu