We were hidden within the clouds, our breaths even and gentle. It was the veritable calm before the storm and it only needed one strike to get this party moving. I had no idea what kind of god he was, or rather the god of what. His clothes were primitive and archaic; being made of dark brown fur and tanned leather. Of course they just looked like that, he was a god so the clothes on his body definitely can't be anything normal.
But seeing him like this, not dressed or geared up in anyway like a modern warrior made me realize that some people's ascension to godhood was akin to being made a picture. You're granted the irrefutable power of the universe, and control over a domain. The power to make and unmake reality as you will it. But some of them are stuck in that moment, never changing, never evolving. Just a god.
