Stavanger Bay since the death of god there’s been a vacancy open

morgana voiced the curiosity of a mortal soul, one who had not yet grasped the true nature of her prophet. and though her questioned kindled a flickering ire within the arrogant listener, they stifled the flame and spoke gently to the speaker.

blessing of god is not without price. it is curse, too. unnamed god demands blood; soon, more, the listener explained, patient and knowing. i am unnamed god's will turned to mortal form. they did not speak of merrick, or the ruddy wolf he had chosen instead of her. it did not matter. divine bloodlust drove the listener, heedless of the mortal catalyst; such petty grief was simply part of the price the listener paid for divinity.