#oceanic hymm

[lovekia]

[randevotionalblog]

Hymm to Ran

Hail Lady of the ocean deep

Where her chosen sailors sleep

Hail Mother of Ocean Waves

Crossed only by those stupid or brave

Hail Ran of Ocean might

Of power, of death, of golden light

Hail to the sea Devine Mother

May my prayer abate your hunger

Hail and praise to Lady of the Sea

My gratitude to you, I am indebted to Thee

We live at the mercy of Thy power and might

I pray Thou accept my offer tonight

Hail to Ran who sailors do fear

Hail to the Matron of All That Swim

Of the greatest whale, of the smallest fish

Hail Lady of Ocean Deep

My devotion I give to you to keep

[circeaianthe]

update I wrote

the ocean swims to a fro across its bountiful lands.

its waves crash and burn dive and fall and eventually all come back again into one whole.

it’s reach extends far and wide all beings becon to its call. its the first sign of life, its what’s left after death.

for eons the creatures of its land have tried to make of it what it is. what creature could possibly be the maker of this majesty? it is a creature in of itself?

they tell stories, the sing songs, they write hymms, they shout prayers.

the ocean listens, but does not hear. it is graceful but not merciful. but she does enjoy a good show.

she is present for every sea shanty, she watches for boats at night. she is as present in its lighting as she is around a submarine.

she is not merciful, but she takes gifts. all stolen life returned to the land whence it came eventually, all boats guided back to sea.

he is present even back on land. in the beer amongst the singing in camraderie after a good voyage. he is in the mist at a funeral as respects are paid to a misfortunate cabin boy caught beneath its waves.

he is present in the mountains when the rain and wind blow up them, he feeds the seeds and watches the bright smiles of children running and splashing in the mud.

he is there when the rain does not come and the faces are weary nibbling at the last provisions of their crops and the last drops from the well.

he is not merciful but one day the rain will come.

she is not merciful but one day everyone will return home

it is not merciful but one day all life will know it as its origin.

[mindtrove]

WAIT 17, 31 FOR MORO. I was off by a number lol

Haha I got you fam :P Thanks for the ask!

Ok:

17. Does your muse pray, whether it be to a god or some other force?

Within the normal game AU yes, Moro does pray, however she does so in the way the elves did within the Wycomb Alienage did rather than the way the Dalish did.

I like to HC that with how big Nevarra is, a lot of elves that find themselves in the Free Marches descend from there and so the elves in Moro’s alienage. I imagin that city elves do not have the resources and freedom to keep record and tell intricate stories the way the Dalish do, so a lot of stories and prayers were one through song or poetry. Making them more fluid and easier to remember and pass on.

So when Moro is in the comfort of privacy she sings different hymms and poems about the elvhen gods.

21. When did your muse learn about sex?

When she had finally hit puberty and bled, like with any others in the clan they are taken aside and told what is happening to their bodies and what they can expect as their body is changing. It is something Deshanna has put in place so as to ease the girls and boys of the clan and to make sure they understand what they’re doing and make them comfortable to seek help.

As for how she got her own first hand experience, she experimented a lot with a particular apprentice amoung the hunters, never going all the way but pretty much doing everything else lol

31. What is your muse’s first memory?

The smell of the ocean and the heavy stench of fish, seagulls and human men squaking in equal measure and wiggling out of her mother’s arms to run after her father who was working on the docks.

(Rosal allowed his wife to bring the children only once to where he worked when he couldn’t find any chance for time off, the memory is blurry but the earliest thing Moro remembers from childhood)

50 oddly specific headcanon asks.