#saw someone in my notes once called anxious goddess and it was the funniest little combination of words

[raineandsky]

#126

An older man steps forwards towards the altar, a rather simple thing, barren of any offering. A golden chalice sits aloft in his hands. “A gift,” he proclaims, “for our beautiful goddess.”

He places it carefully upon the altar’s surface, stepping back patiently. This is the part where whichever god he’s offering to takes a look at his gift, decides whether he’s worth helping, gives him their divine intervention. He’s done it before. He knows what’s coming.

What he doesn’t expect is a skittish presence to wrap him too tight with an awkward “… you don’t have to do that.”

Most of the gods the man has met are warm, intimidating, bright. This one is… well. Clearly rather tame—for a goddess, at least.

“My goddess,” he says with genuine surprise, “I seek your advice. A gift in return for your wisdom.”

The air is humming with nervous energy. It’s making him anxious too. “I enjoy passing on my knowledge,” the goddess says a little desperately. “There is no need for bribery.”

“No, I’m not trying to—” A trick, perhaps? The gods are known for toying with their followers. “No, my goddess, I simply aim to create a mutually beneficial transaction.”

“If you so wish, although the chalice is quite lovely in comparison to what I can offer you.” Something of a nervous laugh, forced and painful. “What is it you seek?”

The goddess of the travelling merchants. A small god, and a rather niche one, but a god with a loyal following none the less. From her title alone, the man can picture the types of people coming here to worship her.

“I am but a humble pelt seller, my goddess.” The man points rather unnecessarily to the chalice he’s laid on her empty altar. Now he’s thinking about it, he can see why her altar’s empty, given her attitude. “My wife is due to bring us a child. I want only the best life for them both.”

A tense, uncomfortable silence. “I do appreciate you seeking my guidance,” she starts slowly, “but I fear I am a little out of my depth with such a request. The goddess of fertility is in the temple down the street. Or, perhaps, if you seek fortune, the god for that is in the next town—”

“Please excuse my interruption, my goddess, but that is not what I came to ask for.” The man turns his eyes down to his feet, like he’s trying to avoid her gaze, as if her eyes aren’t everywhere. “My pelts are the business that gives my family life. Please, with your blessing, I could sell enough to create the life I want for my wife and my child.”

“You want a blessing but still want to work?”

“It would mean something to know I did it myself, even if I did it with the blessing of our beautiful goddess.”

“Oh, stop, please.” The goddess hums thoughtfully. “That is sweet. I will bless you—of course—I will bless you and your cart and your pelts and your donkey, if you require.”

The man bows as low as his rickety back will let him. “Thank you, my goddess. That is really too much.”

“Not at all.” An awkward laugh ripples through the air that cringes the man to his core. “My blessings are rather meagre compared to other gods, anyway. It is only fair.”

He’s never met such a self-conscious god in his life. Aren’t they meant to be powerful, self-righteous creatures? The man would almost believe her to be human, if not for the overwhelming presence to give her away.

The goddess blesses him, his cart, his pelts, and his donkey, as promised. He bows again in thanks before he turns to take his leave. He can feel her uncertainty before she speaks.

“Your chalice,” she says hurriedly. “You appear to have forgotten it.”

“As I said, my goddess,” the man replies, “it is my gift to you in return for the kindness you have shown me. Please, accept the compassion you have allowed me and keep it.”

She may be a goddess, but she can’t stop him from turning on his heel and continuing on his way back out into the town.

The man doesn’t visit her again—he has no need. His business flourishes, his worries vanquished, his wife and newborn child healthy. The goddess of travelling merchants cannot help the merchant who has already found success.

If only he’d needed to visit her, though. He would see that, after all this time, she has started accepting gifts. Small tokens of appreciation she has learnt to take instead of disregard—blankets and teas and gemstones.

And amidst it all, her prized possession—a bright, golden chalice.