Gumiho, Fox Spirit of the East
Nine-tailed Fox's Grand Shrine, Guwon District
Capital City, Eastern Mainland
Dayheim, Land of Mortals
When she comes to, she awakens to the sensation of cold wetness on her face.
Droplets fall down her face in slow, languid motions. It touches her cheekbones, and then cascades down from the high rise to the lower end, cold like a glacier's touch, before seeping into her hairline.
The fox god cracks open her eyes, mildly confused at the registration of pain enveloping her whole person, before her vision blurs into focus before her.
She sees the oddly familiar, yet long missed ceiling painted with murals of herself. Whites. Blues. Dark indigo.
Then she sees a mop of white hair with blue tips, bluntly cut into a slant on one side, and a ponytail which tickles the skin of her face as it drapes past one's shoulders, frantic in the way it sways.
A pair of aquamarine eyes shrink and widen in rapid motions in front of her, and she sees more than hears as those lips curl into an exclamation which punctuates her name.
"My Lady! You are awake!"
It takes her another second to glaze at the woman, giving her a once-over, before realising she is being held in a deathly clutch by her very own general.
"General," she croaks, trying to push herself up from laying on the — floor of her own grand shrine? "Whatever are you doing here?"
"Your aura trace went out for a few hours, and I had no choice but to request an emergency descent. Worry not, my lady, all affairs in the Post have been settled beforehand."
"That is — not what I am worrying about," she hisses slightly, and her general quickly relents in her embrace, helping her sit upright as the fox god takes in her surroundings. Casting another frantic look around, here is what she can collect.
One, she is not in her mortal shell. The body of the Western researcher is found lying on a futon mattress several yards away, tucked safely into a corner, enveloped in a velvet blanket. She looks serene as she sleeps, and it comforts the fox god that there is still some semblance of life in the colours of her face.
Two, she is in her grand shrine in the capital. Her biggest temple in all of the Eastern Mainland, it seems; where her faith is strongest, and definitely her most optimal resting spot at this moment in time. She finds herself laid before her very own altar, stacked with incense pots with some that are still burning muted oranges.
And if she looks beyond that, there she is; in her fullest glory, encapsulated in cool marble the shade of ice. Her statue lays horizontal, overlooking the whole expanse of the shrine with sharp eyes as she is carved in a sideways sleeping position, one elbow propped, nine tails springing out widely. In comparison to the real thing, she feels as though she would not measure up to this mortal creation given her current state.
It is dark — late night stretching into dawn, it seems, and the shrine itself is vacant, save for a few practitioners walking around doing clean-ups. She has no idea how she got her mortal body here, and how the temple residents were convinced to house the body and accommodate it, but she files that away to ask her general later.
Three, she is alone with her trusted aide, and neither the night god nor any of his generals are in sight.
"How did I get here?" She finally asks, then turns back to look at her general with scrunched eyes, "And how did you get here?"
The general sighs lightly, still holding her up, tossing her ponytail behind her shoulders. She is clad in her usual attire, no disguises in sight, but that doesn't seem to be the least of her troubles.
"I reported to the sun god that something could be amiss with the mission, and His Grace had consented for me to descend. His Grace had also supplied some of his officials to aid the duties of our Post, and helped me locate your trace in the mortal realm. Due to some — interference — we could not get a pinpoint on your whereabouts, but it wasn't until the Guidance Goddess reached out to me herself."
"The Guidance Goddess?" Ariadne must know how to locate her, after all. She is housing her form in one of her descendants. But the question stands; with Cyn's talisman at work, there could not be a way for any of the deities to find her… At least not that easily. So how did she do it? "What has she said?"
"It came as a rather surprising turn of events as well, My Lady, but it seems that —" the look on the general's face wavers, albeit only slightly, but it did not go unnoticed by her god. "The Night God has come out of hiding himself, just to contact the Goddess. He sent her a private message in the communication array, reporting on your dire state, and requested for aid."
If one were to tell her Ye Shen was capable of caring about her well-being enough to forsake his despise for the Heavens, she would not have believed it. Not in a million years.
Alas, the person reporting this to her is her own general, whom she trusts most. Thus, it must be true. Generals cannot lie to the gods they serve.
"What?"
She would definitely need some time to sit alone with it and let that thought sink in; two hundred years of being a vigilante, denying the calls of this universe's highest power — and all it takes is for her injury to dismantle all that?
It is absurd to her, but perhaps the answer could be staring her in the face. Perhaps he does have a heart, after all.
Therefore, the fox god simply stares, mouth agape.
"My Lady, I came as fast as I could. The Guidance Goddess has informed me that you will be at your grand shrine, and said no more. His Liege did not ask for further help from Her Lady or anything else. He simply meant to inform her of your whereabouts in case of a dire situation. When I came, I found you here, alone."
"Did he leave me here? He escaped?" When the realisation hits her, it hits with the weight of a thousand bricks crumbling down on her shoulders.
So much credit for having a heart.
He dropped her here and went on his way. Is that why he signalled the Heavens? For someone to come pick her up and bring her back? Clean up after her mess?
She failed the mission.
She was so close to establishing a good moral ground with the night god, and it only took her one moment of weakness for him to leave her stranded. Her mission target, flying her out just to drop her at her shrine, then leaving, just like that. It doesn't even dawn upon her if he's about to move shelters as they speak, relocating to a place where it will be even harder for her to seek out.
It took her one whole day of endless journeying just to catch the faintest trace of him — had it not been her fortune for it to be on a blood moon, it might have taken her weeks, months — years.
And so, the fox god downright grunts, kicks her feet like a petulant child, and runs a hand through her face. "The mission! We will have to locate him again, and in my current state, I am in no condition to—"
"My Lady, you must not put anything before your own health at this moment! Please return to our Post first for recovery, then we will reconvene for our next steps. My Lady must rest," her general cleverly intervenes, staring at her with a steely gaze that offsets the gentleness of her concern, almost in a silent reprimand. "If need be, I will take over the mission. I am more than capable of locating him. My Lady must not worry."
"Oh, dearest," she outwardly sighs, "You will not survive a moment with him. He will shun you like a worthless bug the moment he senses your presence. I barely survived the encounter. Did you realise that he tackled me into a chokehold the moment he confirmed my identity?"
"His Liege did — pardon?" The general is no longer able to conceal the shock from her face, her arms reaching out absentmindedly toward the god's neck to check for any injuries. As if she's forgotten that she is not in her mortal shell, and finds only pure alabaster skin.
The goddess just subtly shakes her head, bringing her arms down and enclosing them in a gentle intertwine. "You need not worry. My point is, the mission will only be complicated if we make any delays or resets to our progress. I must see this through to the very end. Besides, I have favours which I owe to the Guidance Goddess. At sunrise, we must make haste to resume and locate the—"
A chilly breeze suddenly blows through the open doors of her shrine, and for a moment, it was as if all the shadows casted by the silver moonlight bleed into a distortion of eerie crimson.
The fox god and her general immediately stop talking, and turn to the widely opened entrance.
One moment, the space is vacant. Then the next, a shadowed entity morphs down from the sky, plunging with such intense force it would've broken through the floor with its landing, and yet all she hears are stealthy thuds and a swift silhouette reforming into a rather familiar figure.
"Looking for me?"
Wide wings are spread forth when he lands on his feet, standing perfectly still as the enclosed shadows wither away from his form, revealing himself wholly in the light.
The God of the Night, the man of the hour, stands before her like nothing is amiss. His eyes are passive, stoic as they stare at her, half-lidded as if he looks unimpressed. He has returned to his … normal form, the one he prefers to don in order to save energy, looking too ragged and frail to compensate for the amount of aura he strangles the whole room with.
The hood he never brings over his head is now finally shrouding his hair, but it does little to conceal the wind that has tousled the grey locks, like he's just had a long flight. When the god finally tucks his wings behind his back, she watches as they disappear completely, before realising that the tip of his tail is raised perfectly upright.
Apprehensive.
He takes several steps closer, and the fox god feels a presence visibly tensing up next to her. Of course — it is not her he is hostile of.
It is her general.
The woman quickly gets to her feet, standing up just to do a formal courtesy. "I offer my greetings to His Liege, God of the Night."
He does a quirk with his brow that went perfectly unnoticed by her bowing general, but not by her. "At ease, general. There is not a need for such formalities toward a mission bounty."
Her general immediately freezes at that, daring to raise her head. He must have heard some parts of their prior conversation, and the fox god does not know why that made heat flare up her face.
It only intensifies when he completely disregards her general just to approach her, going down on one knee to meet her eye level. "You must think so lowly of me to assume I would abandon you in such ill-mannered haste, God of Deception."
"I was no stranger to your stealthy trickeries — I would have been a fool to not assume what was perfectly predictable," and she doesn't know why she had to quip back in such a snappy way, despite all of her problems being solved by Cyn having shown her compassion.
But his eyes narrow, disappointed, and he simply sits down in front of her, folding his legs and dropping his hood. "I may be elusive, but not stripped of morals. There is a difference. Furthermore, we had a blood oath, remember?"
Right. The blood oath which binds them until both sides of the vow would be fulfilled.
He takes her silence as her permission to continue. "We are bound for the meantime, with you taking the brunt for it no less than I. And you think I'd forsake you just to suffer from another backlash to my core?"
"Well—" She starts, but Cyn simply scowls at her as a signal for the conversation to end, and in doing so, efficiently shuts her up. Him and his great logic.
"If I may intrude, My Liege," her general comes to save the day as she pokes her head into the circle, sitting down right next to her. "If it was true that His Liege called for my descent through the Guidance Goddess, I was rather stupefied to arrive and not see His Liege present."
Cyn regards her with his trademark blank stare, but it seems that he acknowledges some of her courage, and thus the hostility lessened. "It is true indeed. I needed someone to tend to her while I had duties to attend to. As you know, my generals are bound by their oaths and could not serve another god, thus the options I had to weigh are limited."
"I am grateful for your… care towards Her Lady, My Liege. Thank you for your summons."
"It was hardly any effort. Ariadne was equally ready to omit our contact from the Lord as I was to threaten her," he says it like it's nothing to utter her true name, much less threaten another Folklore, before turning to the fox god again with a rather bemused expression. "It seems that whatever deal you struck with her was an effective secret."
And that makes her chuckle humourlessly. "What duties were you attending to?"
He pauses at that, then offers his palm the next moment, no preceding explanation in sight. But a materialisation of several glowing orbs tells her all she needs to know. "I made a visit to an old friend to procure some ailments. For you."
At first, she is rendered speechless, only exchanging quiet glances with her general, who looks equally surprised. He went out of his way to obtain mana orbs to speed up her recovery?
The fox god doesn't know what more she struggles with: accepting the fact that he did not leave her stranded, or the fact that he didn't leave her and went to look for ways to heal her.
"T-thank you," is all that she can offer, reaching in to accept the mana orbs. They glow a dim white, crafted in perfect circles. Whichever alchemy deity he visited must have been very skilled. "You didn't have to."
"I kind of have to, though. The faster you recover, the faster we can fulfill the blood oath and be done with it," he offers, conveniently looking away like he's greatly disturbed by her show of gratitude. For some reason, a smile crawls up the fox god's face, interpreting his dismissal as somewhat… endearing.
Is that him being shy?
"Is there anything I can do to help, My Liege?" Her general once again — heaven bless her sharp wits — interjects, conveniently offering herself up for support. She can read between the lines of her assistant's face that there are questions she's dying to ask, and applauds her for not verbalising them.
"Indeed. Escort the mortal body back where it came from, and see to it that her injuries are well treated. Although your Lady has suffered backlash on her core, her mortal shell is now dripped in karmic mana," he gestures to the body of her mortal host, and the general is quick to nod, readying herself to depart; but not before Cyn shoots her a look. "Once you return, I will answer your questions then."
She meets his eyes, caught off-guard, but says nothing more aside from a deep bow. "Glad to be of service, My Liege. I shall prepare a teleportation spell promptly."
And just like that, her general gets up, carries the mortal body in her hands like she weighs a feather, and departs through the door. She definitely did not have to leave in such a hurry, but something about the situation must have signalled to her that the two deities needed… privacy to discuss the rest of their affairs.
At least, on that, she was absolutely spot-on. Again, bless her general and her sharp wits.
The moment they are left alone, the night god immediately turns to her, and sighs, like he's sorely disappointed. "We failed."
"That much is obvious," she offered, rubbing her forearms rather stiffly after swallowing the last of the mana orbs.
"It is because you were bound by a mortal shell; of course the human body could not handle five god runes, even if you could. It was preposterous of you to overlook that."
"Quick to the scolding, I see. Apologies, father, for my ignorance. I hope you find it in your generous heart to forgive this lowly one of her oversight."
He clenches his jaw momentarily, like he's contemplating on knocking her out cold, then decides against it in the next instance. "It is as much your oversight as it is mine. Given the premises, you were also not able to exercise your full strength in the mortal realm."
She just peers up at him wordlessly, eyes intentionally rounded up like a kicked puppy. And the fox god waits for him to finish his rambling before meeting her eyes — and immediately, her ploy works, because he shuts up in record time and gnaws at his bottom lip.
The look Cyn gives him is a novel blend of disdain and softness, as if it makes him forget himself for a heartbeat, at a loss of what to do. The fox god throws in a pout for good measure, and Cyn immediately stands up, turning his back to her like he could no longer stand being in her vicinity.
"Once the elixirs are effective, come up to the rooftop so I can have a look at your core," he tosses his words, clipped and snappy over his shoulders, not even turning to regard her.
She amuses herself by imagining a flush on those deadly pale cheeks. "Why the rooftop?"
And the night god hesitates for a moment, his body freezing as he conjures some poor excuse, before turning his head just enough to show one squinting red eye. To confirm her suspicions, there is indeed a faint blush behind that thick, grey hair.
"The weather is nice tonight," he says, then spreads his wings, and disappears to land directly above the temple with a soft thud.
Now alone, the fox god finally allows herself the indulgence of a full giggle, hiding her smile behind her hand.
"Cute."
——
Time has passed. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours; but as she levitates onto the rooftop and finds Cyn meditating, it feels as though all time ceases upon the sight she witnesses.
Sure, she has seen him meditate once before — but prior circumstances were dire, and thus did not allow her much voyeur room. He's handsome, she knows that, but it provides little comfort to one's mind when faced upon such beauty in such perimeters.
So, as the Night God takes his sweet time levitating in a meditative stance over nothing, red mists of his aura circulating around him like he is a martyr with both eyes peacefully closed, she takes just another second to pause and stare.
What he cannot see, he cannot realise. Right?
There it is again — the attire he is wearing is his true god form, the one he has donned during his days at the Forbidden City. Although she has seen this form countless times before in the Forbidden City, it has rarely ever been anything but a stolen glance. With their differences in power, they never shared a mission together.
Dashing would be an understatement; she takes a brief pause to marvel at the silver of his armour, the elegance of his dark red robes as it bristles gently in the night breeze, caressed by the ever-dancing fog of his aura.
She takes another second to admire the silky silver and oddly-streaked ponytail that idly rises and cedes in sync with what she imagines his heartbeat would be like; if it still needed to beat. Her eyes gently trace the lines of his red ribbon, curling around his frame like it is to tie a knot of a gift. She looks at how peaceful and … not irritating his expression is, now that his face is fully relaxed, lips no longer seen with that stern purse, eyebrows perfectly linear without a scrunch, silver eyelashes remaining perfectly still without a twitch as though he is soundly asleep.
But a single red, glowing eye peeks up to stare at her without warning, and she jolts, as if caught doing something she shouldn't have.
"Admiring the view, I see," he tosses, and it is amazing how such poise elegance can be destroyed so quickly the moment this man opens his mouth.
The fox god's gaze tears itself away from Cyn's unperturbed eye, and pretends to gaze past him into the horizon of the dimly glowing moon.
The sky is clear, void of any constellations for her to even make excuses to blabber about. There is a mute hue of blue at the edges of the horizon, signalling the slightest crack of dawn. If they were present, she would be more than certain that the lights those stars would shine upon her would be winking in mockery.
"The weather is indeed nice tonight," she offers, hoping that Cyn did not catch her staring, and drifts closer to him, taking her place on top of the roof alongside the man.
If he did have anything to say about it, he makes no further notions, and simply opens both his eyes to take in the sight of her sore self. "Feeling better?"
She responds with a shrug, rotating to face him the same moment he does. "No longer feeling as though I'm battling with my core for survival, so that must be a good start."
"If you are well enough to joke about your well-being, then I take it that nothing is out of order," comes his quick, flat response, face impassive in offset to the way he scoots even closer, their knees now brushing. "Let me have a look at your core."
"I had not realised the God of the Night possesses healing abilities," she starts, eyes rapidly following the movement of his gloved hands reaching up to make contact with where her godrune resides — which happens to be right above her bosoms, all things considered.
The night god doesn't offer her a response, simply scrunches his brows at her like he does not even want to bother humouring her banters, and presses his palms flat against her chest. Her godrune glows in response to the touch, the warmth of his mana prodding at her skin. Docile, gentle, inviting. Requesting permission for their runes to link.
She had not realised it before, but where exactly is his godrune? Most gods wear their runes like a badge of honour, and it would be easily seen with how they leave a space of their attires to showcase it.
But upon her very astute observation of him mere moments ago, he is fully clothed with not a single trace of his rune in sight.
But then, an odd source of light permeates the back of his neck where his collar conceals his skin, and suddenly, her question is answered. Is that why he used to wear a ponytail, but now prefers his hair down so he can hide it?
"You're not focusing," her train of thoughts are cut short by the man's words as he stares down at her with a tinge of disapproval, his mana growing just a tad more aggressive. She offers him a witless smile, and responds to the prodding with an urge of her own mana.
Red and blue intermingle to form a hue of vibrant indigo, and the light both their bodies emanate becomes saturated with it. Then, the sensation comes again.
The fox god takes a sharp inhale, mentally bracing herself for some sort of pain akin to what she experienced. However, the mental shock — or lack thereof — takes her by surprise instead.
The instant moment the connection between their runes are established, all she feels is a gentle warmth enshrouding her core. Rejuvenating. Calming. Comforting.
She could not feel the mental pain from his ailed godrune — is it fully healed? — and instead, there is reassurance in the way his mana flows into her, as if supplying her with even more of his energy in an attempt to refill her drained core.
Her eyes, which she didn't realise were closed, are pried open the next moment. But before the fox god is even able to utter a word, she is instead stunned into silence when she realises.
Just how close Cyn's face is.
When she moves in haste, the tips of their nose brush, and that causes Cyn to open his eyes as well, staring at her with barely concealed surprise.
If either of them just decided to lean in a bit more, not only will their noses touch, but so will their —
Cyn immediately pulls back, and the connection hastily dies.
It's impressive how fast he can turn away, staring with such valiance at the cityscape below them like it's suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. And it's impressive how fast she manages to do the same, willing the heat on her face to be carried away by the night's wind.
She notices dawn beginning to make its presence known, the prior black-blue sky slowly giving way to a gradient of purple and red. The faintest hint of sun is now seen rising like a steady backdrop.
"Your core seems to be recovering steadily," at least she can count on him to break the silence first with his obligated report, but the way his voice cracks at the very end prompts her to steal a glance at him.
And, heavens, he is beet red.
Although there is little sunlight to illuminate his face, the fox god needs little of that to assess the flash of colour on his usually pale complexion — red, all the way from the tips of his sharp ears, down in a straight line across his cheek, and intensified at the tip of his nose, which she sees in perfect clarity from this side view.
"T-thank you," is all she offers, clearing her throat and correcting her posture, not daring to jump away in fear of offending the deity. "Your elixirs were of great help."
"Not enough," he responds swiftly, clearing his throat as well before turning back to face her, and there's this sheepish expression on his face that does not fit his usual stoicness at all. It is almost too much for her to bear. "Your mana reserves are still lacking. You need to rest for the next couple of days if you wish for your strength to recover to a semblance of what it once was."
"Duly noted," she purses her lips, willing her curiosity about his core to go away, but alas, curiosity wins. "Say, about your rune…"
He makes a sound at the back of his throat, soft and almost like a questioning hum, urging her to continue. If the night god was anything like his usual self, he would respond with something snarky at this moment, but she waits. It doesn't come.
So, he is embarrassed as well. Glad to know she isn't the only one.
"Your rune seems to be fully healed," she states, first, as an assumption, waiting for him to correct her. He doesn't. And for a moment, she is left speechless. "Is your strength restored?"
"I meditated for two hundred years, I would say that likely amounted to something," he starts, and she almost sighs in relief to hear his snarkiness again. "The matter of my godrune restoration is merely secondary to the awakening of the other four. My current state is reduced, not because my own rune is weak; but because it is constantly being tormented by the wills of the others residing within."
"Makes sense," she contemplates, shifting just slightly, not anticipating Cyn to do the same, and their knees end up rubbing over each other. Despite the layers of elaborate robes they both wear, the fabrics did nothing to diminish the friction, and she reacted with a raise of her brows.
Perhaps it's not that noticeable — perhaps it is just her deluded mentality that leads her to read so much into a simple skin contact, but who can blame her for it? She is definitely not used to this, when they almost kissed. How is she to provide an appropriate response?
One stolen look at Cyn fidgeting and pulling himself back from any further skin contact reaffirms her that he shares her predicament.
"Say, hypothetically, if we work on awakening them one by one instead of trying to awaken all four, would that not be a wiser approach?"
"A wise approach, indeed," the night god replies, his words chipped, "Makes one wonder why we did not think to start with that in the first place."
The aloof manner in which he just mocked them both elicits a small chuckle from her. "It seems even us gods can be plagued by the mortal flaw in which they call stupidity."
Her attempt at a joke is rewarded with a small quirk of his lips. She would rather take that than nothing.
"After all, we are not the God of Wisdom," he responds, hinting at the Cosmic Deity — Aphrodite at the Welkin Castle, and she tilts her head with a smirk. "However, now a question remains; which rune would be wiser to start with first?"
"Times like this is when you should thank the Lord that you were assigned a psyche god on your mission rather than a combat one, because I might have a rather useful insight to offer," the fox god wastes no time to gloat, not even bothering to check how Cyn reacts to her confidence. All those centuries spent cooped up in scrolls and studies are finally paying off.
"Oh, pray tell, enlightened one," he quickly chirps in, the chastising amusement now back in his tone, and the smirk on his face does little to conceal how much he's waiting to catch her slip in confidence.
But she is not one to back down, and they both know it, so the fox god simply carries on. "When you acquire new runes, the compatibility of its nature relative to yours is also important in how well you are able to draw power from it. Acquired runes will never be as strong as bestowed runes which you received from the judgement of the Lord, but accumulative strength of earned runes can add up to a major difference in status over time. Working to realise your affinity to the other four runes will first rid your body of rejecting it, and eventually, wield its strength."
The night god listens attentively, eyes staring straight into hers, almost unblinking, seemingly making mental notes of everything she has just said. Something about how obedient and eager he looks draws a string in the nerves surrounding her unbeating heart.
"You currently acquire all the runes of the Blessing myth. Most gods don't usually go for runes of the same myth, as certain elements of the story can be contrasting, and thus may interfere with their owned runes. Usually, they try to acquire other runes that are more similar to their current ones to avoid the conflict."
"That means the God of Wealth must have been a moron to challenge the other Blessings."
"He was, indeed, it was downright suicidal. Either he was that confident in his strength, or perhaps the line between bravery and stupidity is finer than we had imagined," she replies, "But then again, he is not a psyche god. You would be surprised to understand how little wit there is in some of your kind."
"I realised as much, hence why I rarely mingled with the other combat gods," comes Cyn's uninterested reply, but the ghost of a smile on his face tells her he's also sharing her amusement. If they were in the Forbidden City, mocking other deities in such a manner would warrant at least some sort of violation against the code of conduct.
But right now, it's just the two of them, idly sitting on top of her shrine's roof like the rest of the universe is but a muted backdrop, and the freedom that comes with the thought is so intoxicating it almost takes her whole. It's as if she can talk to him about anything.
The sun finally rises, the sky behind Cyn turning into a gorgeous gradient of warmth, and the silver in his eye reflects her own appearance in muted gold.
They share a moment of comfortable silence, timid smiles on both their faces, before the fox god remembers herself and continues. She definitely needs to stop getting lost in that oddly gentle trace in his eyes, which he has been frequently gazing at her with. She would wish for that to happen less.
"Let us start with what rune you believe has the least resistance to your bestowed one first," she begins, smoothing out invisible wrinkles from the bottom parts of her robe, just so she has something to do with her hands. "Wealth, Health, Long Life, Virtue — the Long Life rune is the one that contradicts your Peaceful Death the most in nature. It must be the one bringing you the most resistance."
"You are absolutely correct in that," comes Cyn's confirmation, and she can almost feel the way her tails wiggle in satisfaction.
"We shall save that one for last. Now, one look at you, and we both realise that you did not have Health in abundance, even during your mortal times. Even now, you are so frail compared to the average mortal build, so that leaves Wealth and Virtue."
He widens his eyes at her accusation, looking so offended it's comical. "That was unnecessary. Does it need correlation to my mortal life as well?"
"Your nature is everything you have experienced — everything counts," is all she says, smiling ear to ear, "And, well, although you did not come from a wealthy background in your early life, you ended up accumulating ample wealth at the end of your mortal time. That one must not be so bad. However, the only one left out of the list is the one you hold remarkable affinity to."
She gives him a knowing glance, and thank heavens this man is smart and quick on the uptake, because he finishes her train of thoughts instantly. "Virtue."
"Indeed. Blessing virtue to mortals should come as second nature to you."
"This makes me ponder on why I was even bestowed a Rune of Peaceful Death to begin with," he jests, puffing out a rather loud exhale that sounds almost like a chuckle if she strained her ears enough.
"Virtue is definitely more your thing, but perhaps your death was just so poetic that it impressed the Lord, who is to say?" She finishes the punchline for him, and both their eyes crinkle in amusement. "There we have it. A clear plan of action, all thanks to yours truly."
Cyn merely narrows his eyes at her entitlement, but offers no stronger reaction except for a smirk. "Right, you must expect gratitude for your wisdom. I thank you."
That has to be the most ungenuine gratitude she has ever received, but it's coming from him, so she will take it. "You are most welcome. Although, if we plan to awaken all your runes within a hundred days, we must rather make haste."
"And where do you suggest we start, My Lady?"
The fox god simply folds her arms across her chest, and huffs. "Meditating to cease the rune's resistance is one thing, but there is a far more effective method to attain a god's strength; a method as old as time."
Cyn simply cocks his head to the side, prompting her to continue, although she is willing to bet he himself already knows the answer to this question. Perhaps he just wants to hear her say it — how annoying. "Which is?"
"How does any god rise to power at all? The answer is accumulating faith from their followers," she shrugs, wrinkling her nose at him, and the way he raises one brow at her with a widened smile tells her all she needs to know. He's enjoying this.
"And how does one accumulate faith from their followers?"
She laughs, leans in closer, and taps the tip of her index finger against his nose. He immediately scrunches it, and the sight it makes for is one worth capturing in an illustrated portrait.
"Answering prayers. Let us pay the God of Virtue's grand shrine a visit."