Mortals really were thick creatures, Valanir knew as he let his shoulders tense and release once. Why was he even giving ground to such a sily excuse of a soul? They were cosmic jokes sent down to make parodies of all his thoughts. How in Father's name could've he ever hoped to meet life on the same scale to his own down in this dirtied and wretched street. It was his own fault, he guessed, for being too hopeful of recieving a sign. Leth might've been a good god, but he wouldn't garner to weaklings - it would do the ethaefal well to remember that.
"I'm not asking you to pray to me, silly creature" he'd sigh. Whoever taught her kind to communicate ought to have done a better job. This was funny at best, a crying matter to him. He never said he was a god, merely offspring of one, much like her - daughter of Myri.
"I just asked you to speak to me... given, it was about Leth." and then he'd explain a bit "No need to take insult, I just don't find interest in most things your kind worries about" was it his time to leave yet? He wouldn't answer it just yet.