[MythicDusk]

His head still spun. Was that what his head was? He supposed it was. He carefully rose his hands, groaning as the joins in his elbows ached and he could not simply will the pain away. He could remember when he used to store the pain in a far cloud, filling it with roars of thunder and strikes of lightning-whip pain. He could remember how the wind would feel all around him. He could remember so much. He could remember seeing without eyes, speaking without a throat, feeling without skin. He could remember it all.

"I am-"

As he attempted to speak his own name, he felt his throat constrict. Felt a rumble in his skull as something told him that to speak that name was forbidden. It was immoral and wrong to try and praise yourself back into godhood. He grit his teeth as the rumble faded away, feeling his jaw ache for the first time in his eternal life. He felt like he wanted to cry. It was a strange, new sensation. Usually, when sadness filled him, it just rained.

He looked up to the uncaring sky, and saw the sun shining as brightly as ever. He briefly wondered if someone else had taken his place, if someone else was watching their predecessor with glee and smugness. He wrinkled his nose at the thought and began to walk, his hand carefully running across old brick to keep himself steady.

He knew this place. It was one of his favorite places to watch. To watch the colors of people blend together, to hear the noise mingling. A song of humanity at its finest. Now, the colors were too bright, the sounds too loud. He found himself feeling nauseous and overwhelmed. He made the first turn he could take into an open doorway, not caring for the place where he would end up.

He found himself in a church. A place where the noises outside didn't penetrate. Where the colors were faint and gentle. He carefully sat in one of the pews, bowing his head and resting his forehead on the back of one. He wasn't praying. He didn't think there was a reason to. He was a god, now forced to walk among the mortals. Possibly for the rest of eternity.

A name resounded in his skull, made his teeth vibrate and his eyes roll. Gwythur.

He supposed that was his new name.

[Jaykobell]

The church was always quiet around this time. They liked to keep some blocks of time free so that they could arrange events like funerals and weddings within a timely manner. They had other things to keep track of, too, like meetings and general building maintenance.

With a solid free hour to his name, he didn't really know what to do. Two of the priests he hung out with had offered him company — one with tea and the other wanting to go over religious manuscripts... again — but he had politely denied their offer. There were days when he just needed some alone time. He needed time to go walk around, to clear his head. Admittedly, today was a good day for that.

Of course, just because the holy men were on "break" for a bit, didn't mean nobody could walk in. The church was always open, and a handful of people liked to come by to pray and light candles. He usually avoided dealing with those stray visitors.

Still, despite his passive, and arguably aggressive, attitude, he still had a good heart. So when he noticed visitors who seemed to be in pain or ill, he tried to offer what he assumed they were here to find.

"Ah, hello," he greeted as he approached a figure sitting in one of the pews, with their head lowered in what looked relatively worrisome. "Are you okay?" He saved the preaching words for another time. First, to make sure this person was okay. Leaving the church while consciously ignoring someone who seemed to be in need of help just wouldn't sit well with him to begin with.

[MythicDusk]

Gwythur felt himself jump at the sudden voice, his muscles tensing painfully, his skin feeling like it was going to slough off and creep away across the floor. He even thudded his head against the pew infront of him.

"Augh!"

Words were hard, in his defense. He had never really used them, being the entirety of the sky. It was strange having a functioning mouth and tongue that only stayed in one place.

"Ah- yeah. I'm fine. It was just. Noisy. Noisy to the eyes and the ears."

He carefully wrapped his arms around himself, sniffing slightly and feeling tears well up. He tangled his fingers into his shirt. He didn't even know where the clothes had come from. They felt uncomfortable, too tight, despite the fact that they hung off his form.

His skin felt too tight. He felt like he was too big for his own skin. He winced at the feeling. He supposed it would take some getting used to.

[Jaykobell]

The sudden reaction didn't make him jump, but he did stare at the man, blinking. His voice really wasn't that intimidating or powerful. It had to have been because the man hadn't expected anybody to speak to him.

He spoke a little strangely, but not to the point that the priest would dwell on it. The more this went on, though, the more the situation turned into something of an awkward meeting, as the man moved on to wrap his arms around himself, and as he got tears in his eyes.

Oh, Yepha. Was this where the preaching ought to come up? He couldn't even really make much sense of what the man had said. Noisy to the eyes?

For the sake of this person, who seemed in distress, he did his best to offer comfort. "Are you sure?" he started with. "You don't seem well. If there's anything that's troubling you, Yepha is always willing to listen, and so are we."

His fellow priest's offer for tea sprung into his mind. Tea was soothing, wasn't it? But for now, he ought to keep things at a professional level. He had to figure out what was wrong with this man, first.

[MythicDusk]

Gwythur felt the air swirl around his lungs. He had lungs now? Gods, this was going to be hard to get used to. He had to remember to breathe. But he was also vaguely immortal still. He could still feel the power in his throat. The Throat of Thunder was still with him. He still had some kind of defense, at least. But if he stopped breathing, what would happen?

Would he die?

That, in and of itself, was a terrifying thought. He was an immortal being, now mortal. He felt a shudder run across his shoulders as he carefully rose his hand to cup his throat, feeling the automatic response of swallowing. A fear reaction, he understood.

He opened his mouth to explain to the man next to him. To tell him he was once a god and now his skin was too tight, his breath too hard, his head was spinning and he couldn't move the pain elsewhere. He was stuck and solid when he was once the wind itself.

Instead he just looked up at the mention of Yepha. "Oh, her? She barely listens to anyone, let alone prayers." He snorted slightly at the idea, of the memory of his 'sister'. "You'd have more luck throwing a rock at-" He went to say his own name, and it came out as a strangled wheeze. He grit his teeth, closing his eyes and clearing his throat. "More luck throwing a rock at the sky and hitting him."

[Jaykobell]

For someone who had stumbled in a church, that sort of thing came off as contradictory.

But then, he was also a priest who held a shaky belief in the Gods. Really, he wasn't any better, and he had no room to talk.

He had to hold back a chuckle. Even he couldn't deny it: the non-believers had a whole lot of evidence behind them to defend their side of things. And while he could definitely give them reason, to a certain extent, he was also a holy man. Ergo, his goal was to make people believe, and to give people hope.

This man, though, spoke strangely. It made the job a little bit more difficult. "It might feel like our prayers don't get answered sometimes," he said, "but all the Gods listen to them. If they answered every single one of them, it would be chaotic."

The last comment went over his head. It just wasn't something that he felt needed his attention, but the man's wheezing didn't go unnoticed. If anything, he was going to try and stick with this man until he found out what was wrong with him.

"But if I can ask," he went on to say, to continue their conversation, "what are you doing here if you don't believe in Yepha?" He hadn't really meant for his voice to come off as condescending, but it kind of got mingled in there, along with genuine curiosity.

[MythicDusk]

At the priest's final question, Gwythur couldn't help his barking laugh. "Oh gods no, I know she's real. I just also know she's an absolute ass who doesn't care two whits for you ants." Slowly, he sat back up, taking in a few deep breaths to try and steady the shaking in his hands.

"Do you know of the old sky god? The-Man-In-The-Wind? The Clouded Man?" He slowly turned his eyes to the priest beside him, his eyes bright, almost teary. "Do you know of him at all?" He tried to keep his tears out of his voice, tried to keep them from spilling down his cheeks. Tries to stop sounding like he was begging for some kind of recognition.

He just wanted to know he would at least be remembered by one person.

[Jaykobell]

The words took him aback. Non-believers could come up with some extraordinary ways to justify their views, but this one: this one, he hadn't heard it before. At the very least, not quite the same way this man had said it. And the worst part was that part of the priest believed those words.

As the other man stood, he made sure that they got to make eye contact. Something - something wasn't quite right with this man. He didn't feel threatened, but there was something there - something he just couldn't put his finger on. It was a little aggravating.

He frowned just a little at the question. "The old sky God?" he echoed,and he paused for a second. "We're taught that there are many Gods and different powerful entities out there in the world, but that doesn't ring a bell for me. We might have gone over a God like that before, but our focus is very much on Yepha, Zu'hai and Xai're, along with select lesser Gods under their leadership."

Perhaps against his best interest, after giving his answer, he added, "Why?"

[MythicDusk]

The fact that he hadn't heard of him rocked him a little. The gentle man in the sky,  whos tears nourished the lands, who's laughter was booms of thunder. He was- he was the sky. He felt a lump grown in his throat. He had tried so hard to be a good one, to hold his arms out wide, voices singing him praise and thanks warming his skin like the sun that glowed from his chest warmed the people on the earth.

He slowly sat back down, visibly shaken, hiccuping a sob before he swallowed it down. "He isn't a lesser god. His tears were the rain, he cried for you all so much. His heart was the sun, a gentle, pulsing warmth. He cried out in pain with humanity, laughed with them."

Slowly, he rose his eyes, tears tracking down his cheeks. "He loved humans. I loved humans." He felt his teeth grit as he bowed his head again. "Leave me to my sorrow, ant of a ignorant god. Sing your prayers and let them land on deaf ears. I just need to feel the warmth of worship again, even if it isn't for me."

[Jaykobell]

If he didn't know any better, he would have labeled this man as either senile, or as someone who was trying to cause trouble for a good laugh. The more this man spoke, the more it made little sense. And it all culminated when he spoke in first person, and went on about the sky God in a rather passionate display.

All he could do was stare and listen. This world was full of surprises: some of which being that magical creatures could live amongst humans, the existence of magic, and many others. Was this man implying that he had once been a God?

Perhaps he really was senile after all.

He could have left it at that, or he could have tried to help the man a little bit more. Those last words, though, really rubbed the priest the wrong way. He had to bite his tongue — at least a little. What came out of his mouth first was a condescending chuckle. "Excuse me; what?"

From there, his tone carried a certain tone to it: one that made it clear he hadn't appreciated that insulting comment, all the while somewhat grinning, just a bit, from the absurdity of it all. "Are you claiming that you were a God of some sort?" That was one point they had to establish. "Even if you are: your calling us 'ants' isn't what believers want from their God," he pointed out, and while he had been biting his tongue, it was stronger than him.

"They wouldn't worship a God like that. Those Gods are the ones we let go of and forget."

[MythicDusk]

He felt a sigh roll through him. He was right, he had become so bitter since being forgotten. Perhaps that was his own fault. He wanted to be petulant and claim that was just what Yepha called them. But it wasn't. She loved them in her own way, lent an ear when there was nothing better to do. She was just. Distracted a lot of the time. Their prayers fell on ears deaf to them, usually dripping from her shoulders into the gods of lower classes, the gods who could listen and help.

He used to be one of them.

He supposed that was why so many of the gods had let themselves attach to Yepha, like so many barnacles on the underside of a boat.

Gwythur found himself waiting for the upper eschelons of divinity to wipe them away like grime. Just like they did him.

"You're right, I apologise. I'm-" He paused for a second, as if chewing the word he wanted to say. "I'm bitter, since my descent. Since before my descent. I've been bitter for a long, long time." Perhaps this was part of humanity. To feel the weight of guilt on your shoulders, whereas when you were a god, you could do no wrong.

He heaved a sigh, glancing up to the priest before giving a wry smile. "You don't believe me, and there is nothing I could give you to show you. I have so few remnants of my divinity. If you cut me, I bleed, if my heart stops beating, I die. I'm no longer the clouded man. I'm just-" He waved his hands uselessly, his jaw gritting and his face screing up into the beginning of sobs, until he finally choked out. "I'm just a man, now."

[Jaykobell]

His tendency to open his mouth usually resulted in arguments, and in the worst cases, in fights. It was in his character to call people out, and despite his position, he couldn't always bite his tongue for very long. If someone pushed him, it was usually enough for him to roll with his attitude.

Unlike most situations, though, this time, his speaking up snapped the person out of it. A little unusual, but it was arguably better that than starting a fight with a stranger right in the church. Of course, this kind of thought only came to him after opening his mouth.

Besides all that, this whole thing was unprecedented. Oh, there were stories of fallen Gods and the likes, legends that spoke of divine beings falling from grace and becoming mortals or being stripped of their power. But the question here was: were they actually real? Were they more than just legends? That was a question he didn't have the answer to.

He took a deep breath, and then he sighed. If he considered this man's words as the truth, they did start making a whole lot of sense. And, well, perhaps they could relate on one thing — bitterness.

"Listen, it's that..." His voice had softened back to normal now, as he tried to gather his thoughts and make sense of them. "We hear and learn of legends and rumors of powerful beings falling or becoming mortals, but they're just that: legends. But I suppose..." He frowned a little bit. "I guess this whole thing is also just... about faith. None of us know if any of those Gods really exist." They prayed and they revered those entities, but did they really exist? That was where faith came into play.

"So I guess," he went on to say, "I can't prove or deny if you're telling the truth or not. But if you are... I don't know how to help you," he admitted.

Finally, the offer from earlier came back to his mind. Perhaps now was as good a time as any. "We have tea, if you'd like. And our bishop might know something about the sky God that I don't. But that's all I have." And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't very much.

[MythicDusk]

At the mention of help, Gwythur very nearly laughed. "Nobody can help me, my friend. I am cursed to never speak my name to those who don't believe, and unless they know my name, I cannot be worshipped, and if I cannot be worshipped, I am no longer divine." He felt a wet laugh bubble up in his throat, a jagged amalgamation between a laugh and a sob. "All because of a name."

He sniffed, wiping what few tears had spilled away, grunting with the motion before he looked to the floor between his feet. "I think I would like that. To talk to your bishop." He paused for a moment, tangling his fingers together before letting his lips pull into a frown.

"Talking, like this? It seems to make everything feel a little smaller. Make me feel a little smaller." He paused for a second, thinking. "I used to be the entirety of the sky, and now I'm forced into one small swathe of flesh." He gave a humorless laugh, hunching his shoulders in a slight shrug. "I feel like I'm too big for my skin. But talking, or perhaps just talking to you, makes me feel like I can fit."

[Jaykobell]

The only thing that came to mind was the ever-popular saying of, "what's in a name?" — and clearly, the answer was that it could be worth more than anticipated.

And, well, it was nice to see things turning out for the better, from this conversation — as surprising as it was, too. It was known that this priest was infamous for starting fights, but his attitude, this time, had brought on a peaceful resolution. "Ah, well, you're welcome," he said awkwardly at the man's compliment. Perhaps they could relate on that level, too: not fitting inside the body they had. How ironic.

"It's slow right now, so our bishop should be able to talk," he said, and he motioned towards the front of the church. "He's in the back, in his office. If you follow me; it's not a long walk there." Usually, the bishop would come here amongst the pews, but this sounded like an unusual circumstance.

They walked up the pews, passing by the glass windows and the many old religious relics of worship scattered about the altars and the church. Down more hallways, and pass more windows; at some point, it was but the two of them walking down the hall, in silence.

They soon reached an office at the end of the hall. A large, intimidating wooden door. Without hesitation, the priest knocked on it, and without waiting for an answer, opened the door, and stepped inside. "Father Balbus," he said as he walked in, ultimately giving the bishop no say in the matter. "There's someone who stepped in, and who I think should speak to you."

By that time, the two had stepped inside the office. At the end was a large desk, and behind the desk, was the bishop.

One would have expected an older man to be sitting in the chair, but the bishop didn't look that much older than the priest. Unlike the priest, however, he seemed much more in tune with his religious duty.

"Oh, Clovis," he greeted upon the knocking and the door opening. "Hello. What's wrong?" he asked as he got up from the chair and walked around to meet up with the two young men. Unsurprisingly, his attention turned to the stranger.

"Hello," he said with a smile, a much warmer presence than Clovis's rough attitude. "Welcome to our humble church. Is there anything that I can help you with?" He tilted his head, inviting the man to share his concerns.

[MythicDusk]

Gwythur wondered how he would tell this man what he had told Clovis. How he would say what he was, what he used to be. How he used to cry for people and their wars, how the goddess he worshipped shrugged off their cried concerns. How the goddess they worshiped, the goddess they devoted themselves to, wasn't actually the one who answered them.

He looked into the other man's eyes and felt the truth coating his tongue like ash, until jis jaw fell open and his lips began to move.

"I'm a fallen god. I used to be the god of the sky. The Clouded Man. The Man-In-The-Wind. I was cast down because I was no longer being worshipped."

He felt his voice crack, felt weakness thunder through his chest.

"What do I do now?"

[Wild Pet Found]