Litter box, food, some treats. Those are the first things I think to buy for Loaf, who is currently zooming around back at home. The oven is pretty good at making sure nothing in the kitchen overheats or burns down, so she’ll be fine.

Me, though? I still have to talk to a deity.

I don’t know how I’d translate his name into the regular people’s speech, but in the gods’ tongue, it would be sung. Sung as a melody which nearly feels mournful, but it’s only his name so it doesn’t feel complete. And of course you have to add harmonies and vary the length of each note and leave little blanks of silence, since otherwise it would just be like throwing a bunch of words at them. No grammar, no actual sentences, “hi deity hill go annoyed,” does not come across as polite to the deities and they will harm you (personal experience).

On my way to the hill, I just take in my surroundings. Golden flecked barks of tree and shiny dragonflies. Pretty, but on some days the golden sheen of everything is too intense. It’s a leftover from the previous era of Chamkra, where the whole planet was basically nothing but golden sparkling. It sounds luxurious to some people from the other planets, but back then most folk had to be careful not to get scorched . And gold is only luxurious if it’s actual gold (our ‘gold’ is mostly just things which resemble gold, nearly none of it is genuine) and if it’s in any scarcity (my poor, poor eyes already know that’s not the case).

Eye protectors, yes. I dig a pair out of my bag and attempt to avoid the gaze of the god whose head is fused with a bit of land which, it is said, had consumed a tree back in the old era. Back when that bit of land was still alive and even needed to eat, obviously.

‘Needing to eat’. Ah, that explains my headache. When I have headaches from the glare I never really notice the prettiness of everything outside, and I did notice it today so…

…uh. Okay. There is the deity singing at me. “Human, you need to–” I’m still not fluent at the language, there’s a really big word in there. “–which is a ritual the likes of you would never know. o Oh no, he’s throwing a lot of compound words, focus (even if it would be nicer to think about the food; oh right and I’ll pick up the cat food after this since I remember hearing years ago that some deities really hate the smell of cat food but who even knows if that’s true) and there’s words. There are definitely words. Being said. By the deity. Compound words mostly, the type the deities only really use among themselves. “And the filthy [??]–” Compound word with ‘magic’ in it? And ‘person’? And several other words too, it’s a long compound word. “–they definitely don’t understand the games they’re playing, and I assure you they shall be smited at my nearest convenience. Of course the others and I agree to disagree on the method, but–” Definitely words. Most of them are not related to what I came here to do. Um.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

I bring out my mini-harp, carefully singing & playing the words, “Good divine one, respectable deity, might you have the kindness to repeat the most relevant points of what you so eloquently just uttered, as I have come here to inquire not about the good folk you wish to smite but rather about the disturbance caused to the students studying at the nearby school, as your voice & harp-ribcage & leg-drum are excessively loud despite sounding quite so wonderful when played at a safer volume?”

I attempted to sing/play/speak that, since that’s the safe level of politeness.

Attempted, since I forgot how to say that phrase (only to remember it a split second too late) and just said, “Repeat.” He was nearly about to glare at me, so I added in, “Please.”

…

It isn’t going to work today either, is it?

…

He’s glaring at me. I wish one of the translators were able to make it today. No clue why Camellia thought I’d be good at this. The etiquette, I never understood the etiquette.

“Greetings, kind deity,” I try again. “I’m simply here to say this: You are loud. Kindly be less loud. There are students studying in the school nearby.”

He squints at me. “So you’re not one of the–” that long, long compound word with ‘magic’ and ‘person’ again.

“No. I am not one of them.”

…

He stopped glaring, that’s progress!

Still silent, though.

Generally, unless you’re apologising, you really shouldn’t speak more to the gods unless they speak back (unless there’s something I’m missing?). Generally, they do speak back (unless there’s something I’m missing?). Either they attack you or they speak back and tell you to go away or they’ll throw you off the overhang above the mountain (I miss the days of negotiating with deities on the flight travel paths).

Sounds. There’s the children leaving the school. There’s the gentle murmurs of the gods attached to the mound behind the school, and the ones above, in the overhangs, who this particular deity on the hill used to argue with. I guess me standing here awkwardly keeps him quiet, at least. Since the other sounds are mostly serene. Sure wish the deity here would speak though. He isn’t even touching the harp in his ribcage, or tapping the drum protruding from his leg, or moving his lips in the slightest.

More minutes. The children sound okay. That’s nice. This deity is still staring. Unsure if it’s a glare at this point or not. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.

Okay! Give up for now, walk away now. I honestly should’ve stuck to helping travellers going through the areas blocked by the deities, at least the deities high up on the ground are nicer and less arrogant about needing to be hyper-polite and they care more about the terms of negotiation (“okay, how long are you willing to stay out of the way? Here’s how long our travellers might take to move”) instead of–

Ah, just get Camellia tomorrow. He’s actually good at speaking to these people. Not just the language, he’s good with the etiquette and such too. I tried, but the deities who think themself too superior are just… no, I’m just going to get the cat food.

I got the litter already, apparently the oven produced a small supply of food which this cat specifically can eat, since she was made out of the oven. Apparently she still needs to get real food, though. I’ll see Epiprocta about it.