‘Which gods would you say have the most effect on peoples’ lives today?’ Elske asked Darstu, tapping his pen impatiently on the list of questions he had made up for his interviewees, his foot jiggling under the table. He had made his way mostly through the list, very slowly, of course, and was approaching his second hour with the woman.
‘Well,’ Darstu drawled out, her voice a grating, raspy, droning sound. And just a little nasal, Elske added to the list of adjectives he would use to complain to Oore later. ‘When I was a young woman, we would often incite the god of luck, Ketsuri whenever we, wait, how old are you again?’ Darstu looked up from her reminiscence, rheumy eyes suddenly sharpening. ‘I’m eleven,’ Elske said, annoyed with the reminder that adults censored themselves when talking to them. He could guess the end of that sentence, he wasn’t that sheltered. ‘Ah, yes. Have you heard of Zichu? God of visions? I traveled once to Sonsoliel, a beautiful city, though obviously not as beautiful as ours, eh?’ She nudged Elske conspiratorially. Elske subtly moved his chair away, making a show of noting Darstu’s answer. ‘And Zichu interacts with humans frequently?’ He asked the elder, as if he hadn’t heard of the god before. It was better to play ignorant, he wouldn’t want to bias his research by swaying his interviewees. ‘The god of visions,’ Darstu’s eyes went back to looking in the distance, recollecting, ‘she would regularly walk among the citizens, almost the entirety of the city counted themselves among her followers. Lots of gods in that city, very multicultural there, open minded. And they love their gods. It’s a point of pride for them, having so many of them and keeping them.’ Elske tapped his pen again, waiting for a good opening to ask, ‘but what effect did she and the others have on the citizens, what did they offer,’ he emphasized.
‘Offer? Child,’ Darstu laughed, ‘you’ve got it wrong, humans are the ones offering to the gods, not the other way around. It’s the natural way of the world, to be reverent of a stronger being. Just like a monkey fears a jaguar, we must be fearful and respect the gods. And if they choose to appreciate our respect, they will bestow their gifts.’ Elske did his best to stem his frustration at the answer, it was very much unsatisfactory. Hopefully others would have better answers. ‘But back to the gods of Sonsoliel,’ she drew out, ‘Zichu is the most human associated god I’ve ever encountered. She is almost completely dependent on human care, and in appreciation she frequently grants visions to the people, though it is up to her acolytes to interpret and disseminate them. I heard of one such vision, and I have to say, I do not envy the acolytes’ work, some weird stuff in there. Something about a fallen god and the rising sun. A bit out there if you ask me, but I wouldn’t dare say anything, those people in Sonsoliel love their gods.’
Estovia was hardly better, ‘I’d have to say Terra is my favorite,’ she said, not at all answering his question about which gods’ ability was best suited to serving the human population. ‘She is the god of treasure, a toad-demon dragon, her back covered in crystal outcroppings with hypnotic orange eyes that if someone looks into directly they will become treasure themselves.’ This was practically the opposite of his question, this god was almost purely destructive. ‘It’s practically like achieving immortality, the person doesn’t have to be an acolyte to receive the transition, they just have to encounter her.’ Elske glared at her over his notes, ‘and what sort of treasure do they become,’ he grumpily asked, ‘for the continuity of my notes,’ he amended. ‘Well, I haven’t seen it for myself, but lore from my hometown holds that it can vary. The most well known story is a woman that received a silver tongue, which she used to convince the rest of her village to worship Terra, becoming a prophet of the toad-demon. I was going to talk about her next class, by here you are getting ahead of the curriculum. Well done, Elske.’ Elske sighed, resigned, this was what he got for asking a god enthusiast.
‘Yeah, gods are a crutch,’ the older girl said, rumored to be a recipient of a miracle from Nhet, the god with no face, also known as the laughing god. That was a welcome variation from the rest of his interviews. ‘A crutch,’ he asked leadingly. The girl, Apina, nodded, ‘I was hiking with my family, before we came here, obviously, and I have asthma, so it was kind of a slow hike, but I have my medicine, so it wasn’t so bad. But anyway, we were hiking and this eerie almost heady lavender mist rolled in through the trees. We could barely see anything, until this sort of human-like shape became visible, not all the way, but we could see it’s sort of outline? Like a shadow through the fog of two people facing each other, leaning into each other’s arms.’ Apina gestured as if to demonstrate. ‘And then there was a voice, I couldn’t understand it exactly, it was like the message popped into my head even though the words were indistinguishable. It asked me about my laughter, if I was satisfied with my silly laugh. Which is just, like, so rude, I love my laugh, and I’ve never been insecure about it, even though it’s a little weird.’ A hand went to the girl's hip, popping it out with attitude. ‘Anyway, I said I was, I’m pretty perfect the way I am.’ The amount of confidence coming off the girl was amazing, Elske marveled, impressed, and especially for a thirteen year old. ‘And the miracle comes in where?’ Apina deflated a little. ‘She reviewed my laugh anyway, took it from me and turned it around, it’s been a little different ever since, a little more mainstream.’ He wondered a bit at the younger generations’ general apathy towards gods, perhaps religion was becoming less relevant over time, or a younger generation would become more religious as they aged, it was hard to tell at this time.
Elske made his way over to elder Fierk’s house, taking a kite up near the top of the falls once more, where the elders tended to clump their houses, his satchel flapping behind him in the wind. Fierk was a bit younger than the other elders, having been voted onto the council despite her youth because of her skills in mathematics, a very practical and necessary skill in a city surrounded by extreme water pressures. ‘And this is for a school project?’ Fierk answered the door, their house one of the nicer ones Elske had seen so far, with corrugated clay shingles and a trellis growing up the front, decking it climbing hydrangea. ‘I suppose I should invite you in then,’ Fierk ushered Elske in.
‘You can’t separate gods from their abilities and aspects, young man,’ this meeting was not going particularly well. Fierk seemed a bit inimical to him, but then some adults didn’t particularly care for a child that was smarter than them, and even though he was just asking questions Fierk seemed put out by the ones he was asking. Well then, challenge accepted, he had never considered being able to separate a god from their abilities, but why couldn’t a person achieve the powers of a god, why did they have to be a god to do what they did. He couldn’t stand arrogant adults. He left soon after, bolstered despite the less than successful meeting.
