89. Promises

[corrinesbell]

[Sheena's in the backyard, one fighting knife in each hand, attacking the life out of the trunk of a tree.

You know you want to know]

Comments

[biteoffherhead]

Moro. Guardian god of the forest.

[corrinesbell]

[oh we are in deep now. What she wouldn't give for a convenient pitfall-escape tunnel combo]

I really didn't mean for that to happen to the tree. ...I kinda forgot where I was for a while.

[biteoffherhead]

Do it again and your blood will be on my fangs.

[corrinesbell]

It's not like the tree's gonna die. It's pretty big.

[biteoffherhead]

I forgot that you humans can't hear the forest's cries of pain.

[corrinesbell]

...I'm sorry.

[biteoffherhead]

How pitiful, that you cannot hear the cries of spirits that were once your brethren. How disgusting that your race has dissolved into loathesome, violent and destructive creatures who simply rip apart the land and slaughter the gods for your selfish means.

[corrinesbell]

What do you want me to do about that? Where I'm from no ancient spirits walk around for real.

[...not ones like Moro, anyway. Not religion-based spirits]

And my people don't just rip up the land. Don't put all humans together like we all think the same.

[biteoffherhead]

But you do. Perhaps it takes the alpha to create the source of destruction, but were I to wrap my jaws around another human being that was burning my forest down, you would likely sink those knives into my flesh.

[corrinesbell]

If I went after another forest god wouldn't you wanna kill me?

[biteoffherhead]

If you pursued a god. If a god defects from his purpose and is filled with hatred or evil, he becomes a demon.

[corrinesbell]

We've got good and evil humans too.

[biteoffherhead]

There is no 'evil' god. Simply a god that fills a purpose. 'Evil' lives in demons, and it is my duty to slaughter them.

Humans were the ones who made the decision to turn those guns against the forest, to tear up the earth to get iron from the soil. To tear down the forest belonging to the god of life and death.

Fools. All of them.

[corrinesbell]

Anyone who can't accept change and work together for a world that cooperates with that change is a fool. Spirits or humans.

[biteoffherhead]

So you would want me to roll over and let the humans steal away the sacred forest of the god who gave me the very breath in my chest, let them cut my head and let them kill the god of life himself?

[corrinesbell]

No! That wouldn't be working together either!

You're choosing not to listen to what I say, because it's not what you wanna hear.

[biteoffherhead]

Ashitaka tried the same as you suggest. And the war continued anyway.

You are too young to understand. We gods do not tolerate infringement on our territory, which we have so little of ever since the humans made guns to slaughter us with.

[corrinesbell]

You can't find a way to share it?

[biteoffherhead]

The land does not belong to the humans. The humans have their territory. They do not steal from the gods as the gods do not even give their land a cursory glance.

[corrinesbell]

I've never been in your world, so I don't know what it's like. ...But if you'd all stop being so stubborn maybe--

[oh ho ho ho, Sheena. What was that?]

[biteoffherhead]

The humans will not stop their advance. The flames of their guns will burn us all.

[corrinesbell]

[it's like listening to some of the more outrageous people talk about half-elves or Martel. Sheena would turn away if she didn't think Moro would bite her in two once her back was turned]

[biteoffherhead]

...They will suffer, at least. When they kill the hundreds of boar gods and finish off my pups, they will reach the Forest Spirit. And when they cut off the head of the Forest Spirit, everything will die.

[corrinesbell]

People can't even stop fighting each other. What gives them the time to go after gods?

[biteoffherhead]

It is their stupidity that causes them to fight us both.

But it's those damned rifles that bring us to our deaths. Arrows and flame can be shaken off, slashes from a sword are shallow and don't slow us in the least. A rifle's iron slug burrows deep within our bodies and kills us slowly with the iron they stole from our soil.