Sun Mote Copse bitter melodies turning your orbit around

arunik'ra listened to the narratative, nodding during some junctures and wide-eyed during others. much of what asherah said was indeed bewildering, baffling either -- but arunik'ra was content it was the Will of Molech. as asherah paused, overcome by grief, arunik'ra raised a slender paw and aimed to place it on asherah's own in a genuflection of both empathy and affinity. asherah's loss was the tribe's loss, her grief the tribe's brand to bury.

"it is no secret the ways of molech are strange to us." she said at length during a genuine pause of great consideration. "but that is the many-armed god's way -- but it is also the way of the world." arunik'ra blinked slowly, gravely. "is it not true that we cannot see shapes, or forms, or shadows without a burning flame or lightness? perhaps the same can be said for your parents -- there was no light in their lives, no vigil to show them their falsehoods and lead them to redemption. no soul ever showed them the light, so all-knowing molech granted them one final kindness." she lowered her muzzle and looked asherah levelly.

"that gift was You. you must carry on in their names, and redeem their souls through your undying devotion to molech."