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boxfullofzeroes2025-04-28 07:11 am
∞
Monzun has been trying their Hand at a little necromancy.
Some gods had skill in that, but Monzun had only known those as enemies; otherwise, humanity itself had better luck in reviving themselves through spiritual means. It’s a skill they find tricky at best. Healing the body is only part of it. The ‘spirit’ (or ‘soul’ or ‘life force’ or ‘ghost’, for just a few mortal terms) is just as necessary.
The Void is distant, but some of the spirits of humanity appear to reach for it. Monzun’s first successes caught such spirits and forced them back into their bodies before they could be left behind, with the memories of what they were trying to reach for gone when commanded to explain.
Generations pass.
Monzun’s reach extends agonizingly slowly.
If anything, learning to conjure bodies for spirits may go against the revival of gods lost to the Void…but any skill has its use. Mortals are exceedingly grateful for revival. Faith spreads and empowers their Creed-boosted capabilities even higher.
Monzun continues trying.
(If there is any god that chose to reign over death, they have yet to show their Hand or anything else at Monzun’s interference. The crueler, more paranoid part of them expects retaliation eventually. The kinder part of them wonders if they should eventually take on this duty, with how terrified so many seem to be of it. But this is all for later.)
Eventually, they find their reach beyond anything they have yet to know. Still far short of finding lost gods, but still encouraging.
A lost soul.
They bring their holy fingers around it and Heal and build and read its memories, growing a skeleton and wrapping it in all its needed parts for functionality.
Monzun comes back to the world in the shadow of their Temple holding a very odd man, their massive Leopard Creature standing to sniff and prod at him.
no subject
He's wrapped in something, constricted and suspended by a warmth that makes his skin buzz. For a few long moments, Rezo has no feelings about his circumstances, only physical awareness. This gradually turns into confusion, particularly when he feels something hairy poke at his head. Which is also accompanied by whooshes of air that have a fetid smell, akin to a fish market or a butcher's. Rather like...
"Ghh-"
...Rather like the breath of a giant carnivorous beast, actually!
Rezo stiffens. His animal instincts take over, and without consciously deciding to do so he tries playing dead.
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"Rezo Greywords," they say ponderously, words pouring over his mind like warm spring rain.
Their Creature pulls away a little, only to pluck him from their Hand and into her furry paws entirely. She is quite gentle, thousands of people, even children, having been held the same.
no subject
He scarcely has time to wonder before he feels large, soft paws envelop him. It feels akin to being picked up by an array of warm cushions made from soft leather, with fur in between each cushion. This must be the beast that was sniffing at him. Rezo doesn't bother resisting, and he isn't even sure he can.
Summoning what courage and wit he can scrape together, Rezo asks "Who... Who are you?"
As he speaks, he begins to tremble. When he realizes this, he feels a surge of irritation at himself for such an unhelpful reaction.
no subject
As dramatic as these words are, the tone comes with little gravitas; they're simply pleased that they managed to bring a soul back from so far.
Sweetheart feels him shake and immediately starts petting him, a purr reverberating through all of her and into his bones. It's alright, little human! Safe, safe, safe.