5th of Spring, 515 AV
Dearest Nysel, I know that you walk with me in my dreams, for I have been told so by my mother and father, whom I trust very much. And in fact, I have even seen your influence on my nightly ventures, for it has been some great time since I have awoken with a nightmare. My dreams have been pleasant, and I have slept well. For this, I thank you, Nysel.
But I must ask, for I am a creature of doubt and imperfection, how can I know you are with me in day? Do you have influence in my waking life? Surely you must, for you are powerful indeed. But if that is true, why does my waking life seem like a nightmare? Can you not take this loneliness and pain of living away from me? Could I not live in a dream where all is well?
The boy's breathing was so loud that it nearly filled the room. His wings fluttered with nerves, casting about what little daylight made it through the windows, throwing a stained violet light against the ground around him. And when Lotvie shuddered at the dark, whispered prayer that flowed forth from his lips, the light danced in an enchanting manner that the boy could neither see, nor appreciate. He merely bowed his head over his hands in the silent temple, hoping against hope that he might just fall asleep here and wake up when he was not so troubled.
Unfortunately for the Akvatari, he stayed awake.
The boy waited. First one chime, then another. He shifted in his seat and tapped his tail and hands against whatever they could reach. He waited another chime, then another. His eyes closed, but he could not sleep. A fifth chime passed, and soon enough a sixth. Still, there were no words from Nysel. The boy's brow furrowed in frustration. One side of his lip rose, forming some resemblance of a snarling expression on the Akvatari's face.
Lotvie's pink seal tail tapped against the ground in agitation as it became increasingly clear that he would get no answers tonight. Nysel was silent, per usual. This meant two things to the boy. First, it meant that the God thought his troubles foolish, and not something worth messing with. The veracity of this assumption was more or less unclear. However, the silence of the God also meant that Lotvie would have to face his troubles on his own.
And that, as far as he could tell, was absolutely true.
Rising in a flurry of purple wings and pink fur, the young boy scowled heavily at the temple around him. He turned his back upon the altar and resisted the urge to toss his head in an adolescent fervor as he headed towards the door.
"I don't need this, anyway. I'll figure it out all on my own." He mumbled.
