He wants to will her not to be embarrassed or disheartened, reassure her that he’s not an expert, let alone even from this continent, but she looks to him hopefully and asks ‘Like what?’, and he can’t bring himself to disappoint her any further. “Um, well, my parents would always kneel, like this,” he explains and lowers himself to his knees to demonstrate as he speaks, “and close their eyes and bow their heads. Then they’d recite a prayer and ask the gods for something, or thank them.” Eros pushes upright again and smiles sheepishly. “I mean, that’s what I was going to try, at least.”
Truthfully, he’s not used to being asked questions like this, as if he understands something better. In fact, in childhood most of the other foals in his herd had thought him rather daft. The only thing he had ever really been confident in his knowledge of was plants, and that certainly hadn’t helped his standing in social situations. This expectation of comprehension was stressful! And so, he’s relieved, almost, when she points out their oversight.“I—I didn’t even think of that, how silly of me,” he says, dropping his head.
“Oh, maybe!” Just like that, his head snaps back up at her suggestion and he follows her toward the altars, contemplating which one he will pray to. On Oriens’ he finds a few bound books coupled with dried flowers, on Solis’ cloths and oils and two very ornate weapons. His eyes are drawn to Vespera’s, spotting a bouquet of tulips alongside a spread of jewelry and perfumes. He smiles to himself; he likes those things, too.
He stops, and turns back to face the golden woman.“I…I think we ask them for help with the things that are bigger than us, the things we cannot control and worship them as thanks for answering our prayers? Or maybe in hopes that they will?” He’s not entirely sure himself, but that’s how he’s come to think of it.
‘What if they are all just made of stories?’
His brows raise and eyes widen at the suggestion, but then his face softens. After all, he often finds himself wondering the same thing.“We might never know for sure; they very well might be, but I have to hope they’re out there somewhere listening to and watching out for us. Without that hope, I don’t have much anymore.”
@Florentine
was studying my curling strategy while writing this (i.e. watching more olympics), so pls forgive any typos
i'll make it up to you w gold in 2022 c'x
<3
Truthfully, he’s not used to being asked questions like this, as if he understands something better. In fact, in childhood most of the other foals in his herd had thought him rather daft. The only thing he had ever really been confident in his knowledge of was plants, and that certainly hadn’t helped his standing in social situations. This expectation of comprehension was stressful! And so, he’s relieved, almost, when she points out their oversight.
He stops, and turns back to face the golden woman.
‘What if they are all just made of stories?’
His brows raise and eyes widen at the suggestion, but then his face softens. After all, he often finds himself wondering the same thing.
@
was studying my curling strategy while writing this (i.e. watching more olympics), so pls forgive any typos
i'll make it up to you w gold in 2022 c'x
<3
