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rivalfortune5768 · 2 years ago

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What makes a God.

Continuing Reforged from the other day.

CWs: Not much really, just a bit more self doubt/loathing. it's chill.

I twirled my hammer in my hand, thinking. It had been about two weeks since young Radix found themself in my mentorship. I'd been planning to lead with smithing and forgework advice upfront, before explaining some of the more... complicated matters of godhood to them. So naturally the fates found it a perfect time to cast another perfectly aimed glop of spit in my face.

"...Well?" The young thing repeated, currently pouring a slow stream of hot wind from their skull. We'd experimented how to change the sourceflow so that there wasn't molten metal all over the shop, turns out you just need to dump raw dirt in there, can't seem to produce more earth so it defaults to whatever hits it strongest and fastest.

"...Well. That depends on what kind of god you choose to be, partially. But there's a method to this sort of thing, small one..." I say, tentative. It's been too little time since last that I've had to be patient with someone. Blunt does the job quicker and clearer.

"I could have poisoned whole towns! I need to go make sure they're okay! I need to. Fuck... I need to fix this!" They shouted. It had been a few nights ago, they woke up in the middle of the night, echoing down the tunnels their realization that, what with some sort of liquid nightmare leaking out their head they may have poisoned anywhere they passed to get here, in their haste. "I have to go out and fix it."

I nearly bang my hammer on the anvil to get their attention but I catch myself. Hammer it out later, now is the time to tap slowly, precisely. "Stop and listen to me. A god does not begrieve their mistakes, at least not to mortals. Their faith makes you who you are, and you would be wise to hold that in high priority."

"But-" I stop them this time, letting them obsess without focus will get us nowhere. "SO. What you should do is make use of your new form. Good riddance to the hooded pestilence that swept through this town in a fervor, for now there is a God reborn amongst them! Surely, they can solve our woes...?" I don't smile, I don't like what I'm suggesting, but there are ways We deal with these things.

The poor thing looks nearly crestfallen. "You want me to lie to them? I'm. I can't do that! I don't even remember if I'm good at it!" "You're shit at it, I can tell you that." They blink. "How do you know that?"

I think back to two weeks ago, they came to me then, before they were reforged. The damn child wailing like a canary, they said they were useless as is, that they didn't want to live. They cried, their lip quivering. Besides the obvious, they had just about every tell in the book that they were lying. "You told me how you found this place was that a priest from the village over told you about me. They're too young to know where I live." I, on the other hand, am a practiced liar.

And as such, they accepted my statement as gospel. The perks of teaching an amnesiac. I use the moment to strike while the iron is hot, so to speak. "You will not lie to them. You are different now, are you not? You wear a different name, no nightmares spill forth from your skull, hell you could change yourself more if it would help you convince yourself of the fact."

They stop, tears of self-loathing pooling in their eyes for a moment, stopped from spilling over by realization. "I... Could. Couldn't I?" They say in a small voice. "Master Kiln..." They continue, "Would you please... Please journey with me? I want to fix any messes I caused, I'm certain I've caused them. But. I don't want to ruin things for myself... I want to be a beloved deity, like my mother, but..."

I heave out a sigh and set my hammer down "Child. Enough doubt. I don't want to hear the word 'But' regarding your own plans or desires or worth or what-have-you until we are three villages out from here, is that understood?" I had planned for another era or two of solitude, yet I find myself faced with many 'But's of my own, driving against my own desires. "I will accompany you, and your education will continue as we travel."

They take a deep breath, trying to center themself as I've been teaching. "Thank you, master. I won't let you down." I nod and crack my neck "You wouldn't be the first of our kind to do so, child. Don't make promises you can't keep, just be ready to make amends for them." They look hurt, then confused. Perhaps they're picking up my habit for studying others.

They aren't ready to unravel that web yet, so I use the chance to shift my scale down to that of the common folk. This time I choose a broad frame. Rippling shoulders, arms, back, it's only right for a smith to be well-sculpted, after all. A modest pair of breasts, relative to the rest of my form, and a fine mane of red and black hair, styled as flames coming up from a beard and back along my spine.

Naturally, the young godling's jaw damn near hits the cave floor. "Can... I do that? Is that a thing all gods can do?" They ask, blinking as their eyes fail to properly process this new information. "Oh yes, how frustrating do you think it would be to walk amongst the mortals and be recognized by each and every soul?" I smile, this time.

I walk them through the process. I teach them that gods are faith given form, second that is. Firstly, gods are Ideas. Concepts. Things that souls we could only dream of dreamt up long before us or ours ever stood above the mortal folk. In order to shape yourself, you need only take what that idea means to you, any facet, it doesn't have to be the whole, and you find the faith that folk have in you, mortals, fellow gods, or yourself. You take that faith and you give it form from that idea.

Right as I finish explaining, as if they'd been doing it along to the words I spoke, they stood taller, that crack in their skull now a vibrant rust-tinged silver line of hair contrasting their long golden blonde. Lithe, not like they'd been starving, but like they were on the run from something. Built out of necessity. Their cloak matching their hair as it shifts, gold with a stark rust-silver stripe. Lastly, their eyes seem to refuse change. Blue tries to creep around their irises, but only seems to complete a half circle around their previous raven-violet. Odd but not unheard of. I begin thinking of ways to explain it away.

"Alright, with that, think on your name and story. I'll begin packing for the trip." We don't need to eat, but it will help keep appearances up if we carry food and water. Not to mention I'll need to find a non-enchanted set of tools and such to cart around with us... "Well, what are you going to go by? Any ideas for me?" They ask, looking down at themself, then up at me.

"I'll be Ser Radson, first name Ranulf. As for you, just don't use the name I gave you. Don't want folk months or years from now saying they were the first to know young Radix before they took their mother's title." The godling thought for a moment. "Before she took her mother's title." She stated, as correction to us both. I nodded. "Fair Astrid Meriweather, perhaps?" She coughs from astonishment instantly. "No way. Absolutely not. That's way too... Fanciful." "Think on it yourself then, little one." I say, before heading out of the room to gather our things.

#drabble-babble #Reforged #this is starting to posess our thoughts #you fuckers might be getting a lot more of this one #we'll see

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