There are few affairs that might be called tradition among gods; their natures are very often too different, and reigns that last for millenia can sometimes make tradition feel quaint. But the cyclical nature of night and day does lend itself to planning things at certain times. A god does not need a flair for the dramatic to recognise that many natural things begin at dawn, or else begin at dusk, or span the brief window of time between.
At the mountain pass that leads from the lowland village to the nearby mountain, the inscrutable glow of winter-blue glinting by the sheer cliff face declares that Lethys has chosen a time shortly before dawn.
The swirl of his symbol hangs perfectly still over the dark ground, silent and unmoving as if it did not belong to a thinking mind at all.
A little way off, the soft thudding of impossibly-sized wolf pads draws nearer. Laetes has been instructed to go quietly, and so he is being unusually careful while passing through the warren of little human houses, striding slowly and methodically by buildings and through fields (despite his efforts, leaving some rather large paw-prints of broken crops in his wake). The sound only wakes a few, and not enough to cause much of a stir.
He finally catches up with his god and slows to a halt, peering silently up at Lethys with sharp, contemplative eyes. Maybe he would like to ask, but even Laetes suspects his god doesn't know what will happen today, either. Their mutual uncertainty is best kept to silence.
Lethys doesn't move. He is waiting, but not only for Laetes.
From here, the bright cold light of his symbol stands out like a star in the night from the vantage of Monzun's temple, especially painted against the backdrop of the dark cliff behind him. He is deliberately obvious.
There is no doubt that Monzun will see him. How soon they're ready to get on with whatever strange challenge they and their own Creature have agreed upon is entirely up to them. Although - Lethys may be aware of some perceived hierarchy, but he won't wait forever.
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At the mountain pass that leads from the lowland village to the nearby mountain, the inscrutable glow of winter-blue glinting by the sheer cliff face declares that Lethys has chosen a time shortly before dawn.
The swirl of his symbol hangs perfectly still over the dark ground, silent and unmoving as if it did not belong to a thinking mind at all.
A little way off, the soft thudding of impossibly-sized wolf pads draws nearer. Laetes has been instructed to go quietly, and so he is being unusually careful while passing through the warren of little human houses, striding slowly and methodically by buildings and through fields (despite his efforts, leaving some rather large paw-prints of broken crops in his wake). The sound only wakes a few, and not enough to cause much of a stir.
He finally catches up with his god and slows to a halt, peering silently up at Lethys with sharp, contemplative eyes. Maybe he would like to ask, but even Laetes suspects his god doesn't know what will happen today, either. Their mutual uncertainty is best kept to silence.
Lethys doesn't move. He is waiting, but not only for Laetes.
From here, the bright cold light of his symbol stands out like a star in the night from the vantage of Monzun's temple, especially painted against the backdrop of the dark cliff behind him. He is deliberately obvious.
There is no doubt that Monzun will see him. How soon they're ready to get on with whatever strange challenge they and their own Creature have agreed upon is entirely up to them. Although - Lethys may be aware of some perceived hierarchy, but he won't wait forever.