[color=#DAA520][center][b][h3]☉ Liute 🜂
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[indent]Another spoke. Yelled, really, as the sun searched to find the proper look for the world, and the mortals, below. An errant eye turned down to see another, a speck against the green really, acting out its frustrations. He heard the yelling from that little thing, though from that fact that they did not stand upon the earth…another godsblood? One errant eye turned into a stare, working to listen to the words properly, to see that godsblood properly.

The little shape hung against the ground, floated up towards him as it were, and danced about in its light little movements as though a part of the wind itself, and light cloaked about the little shape like cloth. It danced, here and there, shifting from stark, quick motions to slower ones, mimicking out laying against the earth before shifting up again. Then light pooled in their hands, and they pointed to a cloud. The words, all throughout, were fast and clipped, words in a tongue that Liute did not know the name of yet understood nonetheless. It was the tongue of gods, he understood, the tongue that…perhaps all gods spoke, or at least knew, and such was curious enough. The words were fast, sharp, accusatory here and emotional all throughout.

A longer stare as the godsblood hid from the sun’s light under a cloud, a motivated enough cloud as Liute could see it stand still while all the others continued their lazy motion. The touch of a god? Perhaps. What sort of beings were they then, with such confident words and confident motions, which such actions that they turned such a thing to their own uses with the merest desire. What was…’the happy cloud’? Why was it happy…and why did it glow yellow?

A longer stare indeed. That cloud stood over a spot on the world, a distinct enough spot on the world. Was this the land of that godsblood? Did they claim a dominion, even though they acted such against an errant cloud? Strangeness. Liute entertained the idea of going down to that place, to that godsblood. He wanted to know their name. Yet…was there a point to that? They seemed to be annoyed enough at it all. Perhaps it would be better to wait.

The god went back to preparing himself for the world.
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He walked against the land, but not as any great being of fire. The faces of those mortals which walked before would suit his needs far better, and this was the face which Liute had adopted for the travel. He remained heavyset, squat with great muscles and a heavy face. Thin, golden-strand hair slicked back against the hot wind, and he wore but a yellowed grass cloak.

In some ways then, the god supposed he would stand out among others, down below on that world. He supposed it would be the point. What was the point of the sun if not to shine, even if there was no point in blinding the mortals below. What mattered was that he would be among them, and that they would know him not as a force that kills, but as…well, him. At least, that was the hope in the great endeavor.

Liute knew that there had been crops before. He walked there, to the fields, where men here and there wept. Others worked among the crops that remained, worked to move soil from one plot to another. Water was poured onto them by some. A few older mortals gathered under shade, discussing that issue. Others looked on and upwards, shielding their eyes against the light. They talked among themselves, too. One noticed his approach, a younger with long hair and few wrinkles against his face, who narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Who are you?”

The god spoke, though he still could not name the tongue. “I am Liute.” A pause followed, painful enough. He supposed that there was something to be said for reciprocating that question, that the mortals too would have names and that those names would have some worth in knowing. “And you?”

“Kian. You…are not from here.”

“No.” He motioned a hand to the crops, withered as they were. “Why are they dying?”

“The light before that was calm. Gentle. Then [i]it[/i] came. I do not think the plants love [i]it[/i]. Some think it an omen.”

“Of?”

Kian shrugged. There was nothing more to be said in speculating what the omen could be, especially when it was the thought of others. Another pause followed. For some reason, the man felt he could admit something to the other. “Others have prayed to it. To wish that it would give us mercy. I have prayed to it. There could be no harm in such a thing.”

The god considered what might be said, and took some sense of it. Kian might be one to believe, to know that truth, to help him in some way. Was prayer…worth anything? Some base instinct in Liute said that it was. Some part of him knew that he had felt the prayers before, as scattered as they were, as aimless as they were in giving a name to the thing they prayed to.

“Then remember my name, Kian. You are seen. You are heard.” The man looked at him with a question. “The sun is mine. That which breaks your crops is no intent. Change comes.” He motioned, as Kian’s look changed from question to confusion. The briefest slip in that form came, as heat rolled off from Liute’s skin and steady glow began, visible even under the sun.

Another pause, as Kian stared, took a step back. Others stared too, noticing the strangeness. “What is my name?”

“Liute,” he choked out, mouth slack. “You are…that in the sky?”

“I am the sun. What follows is by my hand. Remember this.”

And in that instant, Liute disappeared, and Kian had the great urge to build an altar to the god. They had been visited by the sun, visited and were known. There was something to be done, and in some way Kian greatly hoped that what followed would be good to his village. There was much for the god to do, he knew.
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The light before his creation had been…less. The plants had drunk in that light, and had thrived. With the creation of the sun, though, those plants were unused to the glory that was there before them, and withered away in their distaste. The concept seemed solid, all-told, and the mortal seemed to have been telling the truth. The whole of it…seemed to follow? Liute wasn’t entirely sure. Surely it would have done no good for the mortal to have lied. Besides that, he would have given the truth upon that revelation, of who he was speaking to. Surely the mortal would have. Surely.

There had to have been another godsblood, who worked to create those plants. There surely had to have been another who would care to create the plants anew, that they might live in the light of the sun, and grow from his greatness. Surely there was. Liute’s mask restored, his divinity hidden from bursting that about him, he had come to one of the forests of the world. This would be where that godsblood would dwell, it had to be. Such made only sense to the god, that a nature-thing would be among nature, or at the very least that nature would be where that godsblood would be most likely to speak back to him. Surely.

A pause. What was there to do? How does one garner the attention of another, from wherever they might be? The most direct way, perhaps? Liute spoke aloud, then.

“Who holds this, answer! This is work to be done.”
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[hider=Actions]Actions:[indent]
[color=#DAA520]☉[/color] As Liute prepares himself for a journey to the world, he notices the antics of Alechior and the location of Gamblerdise.
[color=#DAA520]☉[/color] Create temple/shrine - Liute travels to a farming village, and in introducing himself inspires them to create a shrine to his worship.
[color=#DAA520]☉[/color] Liute manifests in a forest, to speak to Saries.
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