[PRP] Open Your Eyes (Lengidökk and Wingu) FIN

[Gene Wilder]

Time seems to stand still here, doesn't it? Wingu'anuru pondered. The gods shape the mortal realm, and yet ours doesn't change at all. How curious.

Wingu had recently become more philosophic about his life. Ever since he woke up from a slumber that spanned centuries, the god had pondered everything. The stars, the worlds, the circle of life, even. He sat, motionless, eyes staring into the sky, day in and day out. This had gone on for a few generations, but the god of colors hardly noticed. His mind had suddenly sought answers to the questions that had been just as dormant.

A blessing. The god repeatedly chanted this to himself in his mind. His blindness was a blessing, not a curse. Though he didn't always think of it as a blessing. That horrible, claustrophobic feeling as he watched his world grow black. Perhaps that was what death felt like? He shuddered to think about such a fate; he was safe from that. For now, at least.

But Mkodi's judgement had passed, much to the rejoice of the other gods. A few fleeting cheers and insults still floated in his mind from that day. He remembered seeing the group of gods looming over him in those last few moments of light and color, all smiling with vicious satisfaction. He had gotten his just reward.

He perched on the edge of the mountaintop, where the rock cleaved clouds in half as they drifted through the heavenly domain. Newly deceased mortals and visiting gods alike thought him to be lazy, even irresponsible. But Wingu didn't mind. Perhaps they were right in thinking him to be that way. After all, they had lived full lives, had seen the world, had made friends and enemies.  

[mouselet]

Darkness becomes light. Death becomes rebirth. Silence becomes noise becomes silence again. All things moved in cycles and Lengidökk's very domain represented and upheld that very concept. Some thought of the god as a philosopher. Others as a bit of a lecher. Both were true, and yet neither was the entirety of what he was.

The spring equinox had passed and time was moving towards the winter solstice, the day of Siku-Refu, his counterpart. Well, this happened every year. Not that Lengidökk was offended, that was simply how it was, had been, and always would be.

The lion currently soared above the snow, wings spread wide and exulting in the wind racing through his fur. Below, a darker spot of some kind of color. Intrigued, Lengi dove, landing neatly beside the other. It turned out to be a god he didn't know at all. At least, not in any recent lifetimes. And the other was staring off into space. Probably thinking deep thoughts. It tended to come with the territory of being a god.

"You know, if your thoughts get any deeper, you might fall into a pit," he observed cheerfully.  

[Gene Wilder]

Can a god rule his domain even if he cannot see it? If he cannot, is he any better than the mortals who pray to him?

Wingu felt crestfallen at this revelation. What could he possibly do in this state? It was like clipping the wings of a mighty eagle. He knew better than to bring up the situation and anger the gods, but-


The sudden presence of another so close to him snapped Wingu right out of his thoughts and into a defensive position. He stood quite close to the edge, unaware of how far a drop he was inches away from.

"Wh-who's that? Who are you?!" he called out, glaring a few degrees off from where the wintery god sat. He could feel the icy winds he brought with him, and it made Wingu shiver slightly.

Not wanting to waste time, the god of color released from his paws a silvery liquid. Up into the air it flew, rearing back almost like a cobra about to strike. It then darted towards Lengidökk, circling around his body. As it did so, the blind god began to see who it was. Out of the pitch black rose a figure. It was frosty white, yet it carried the striking blues a glacier had. The air around the figure carried tiny flecks of white and shocking turquoise, making Wingu wonder who it could possibly be.  

[mouselet]

The striped god leaned back a little in startlement at the sudden and unexpected response. By the sun's resurrected light, he hadn't meant to startle the other into an attack! Icy blue eyes widened slightly as he watched the silver stuff floating around. Lengidökk didn't wield power over others much as a matter of course and philosophy, and most of the gods he'd spoken with tended to be of similar mindsets.

But...the silver stuff wasn't doing anything to him, at least not yet, and Lengi began to think that he might be safe.

"You know, you won't make any friends if you do that to everyone who comes near," the newcomer remarked mildly, only a faint tremor revealing his unease. "I'm Lengidökk, God of the Winter Solstice," he introduced himself with a graceful bow. "And you are? Other than a bit on the rude side?"

He probably shouldn't have added that last bit, but what was a bit of mischief between friends? It was the same inclination that made Lengi try to get kisses from lionesses on the basis of his mistletoe crown. Not to mention how often the ploy, added to his own innate charm and suavity, worked.  

[Gene Wilder]

The god had a point. Albeit a blunt one.

Once the picture had painted itself into his mind, Wingu called back the liquid. Winter solstice, huh? Did Africa have winters? He thought for a moment as the silvery substance slithered back to his paws.

"I didn't think winter extended this far south," he retorted, still feeling a little defensive. Nevertheless, Wingu returned the bow. He was still a god, after all.

"I am Wingu'anuru, God of Colors."

He sat back down, reflexively looking at the sky once more.
"Although I don't feel like it. I haven't for a long time," he quipped.  

[mouselet]

Friendly as he was, Lengidökk didn't relax until the weird silver stuff had been withdrawn entirely. Even so, he was a bit on edge, given how fast it had appeared in the first place. What was it? What purpose did it serve? He was afraid to ask. Well, no, he wasn't afraid to ask, he simply wanted to wait for an organic point in the conversation in which to insert his inquiry.

"Sure it does!" the striped god responded cheerfully. "After all, aren't we sitting in the snow? Besides, there's other mountains in the mortal realm that have snow year round." Lengi's voice grew more serious as he elaborated for Wingu.

"It's not really the weather that defines the season though. It's a mindset, the death and rebirth of the sun on the longest night of the year, endings and new beginnings..."

"...but it's very nice to meet you, Wingu'anuru," he concluded, a little lamely, realizing he'd gone on maybe a bit too long about philosophy. Not every god liked to think for long moments on the domains of others, after all.  

[Gene Wilder]

The lion looked back once to nod at Lengi, and then returned to looking at the sky.

"I see," he said, before realizing how silly that sounded.
"No pun intended."

A long bout of silence passed, no doubt boring for the other god Wingu should've been entertaining. The winds and clouds seemed to stand still until he turned back and fully faced the solstice god.

"Tell me something. If you couldn't control the solstice... would you still consider yourself a god? Would you still have believers and worshippers?" He looked a little desperate for an answer.  

[mouselet]

The striped male was still puzzling over the part where no pun was intended when Wingu started talking again. All the other god had said was "I see"...oh. Wow. Now he felt really dumb.

Wingu'anuru was blind. Which was no little strange for a God of Colors. But Lengi wasn't going to pry. At least, not right now. Besides, Wingu had asked a far more important question.

"I don't control it!" Lengidökk answered in surprise. "The solstice isn't caused, it is a manifestation of phenomena beyond my power. I couldn't control it anymore than Siku-Refu can the summer solstice, or the others can control the sun, moon, or stars! My powers and very existence come from the beliefs and emotions that generation upon generation have tied in to that one day of the year."

The lion ran what he'd said through his mind and decided he still hadn't answered the most important question. "I am a god...because people believe I exist, and have dominion over this one element of the world. It doesn't matter that I don't cause or control it, I do have some influence, and usually that's enough."

Usually. There were some people, in remote places, that believed there was only one way to bring back the sun. Lengi didn't care for sacrifices, but he didn't like to interfere with long-established traditions that, despite their gruesomeness, brought comfort to the ones who practiced them.  

[Gene Wilder]

Wingu blinked in surprise. He didn't... didn't control it? What sort of talk was that?! Still, he listened to Lengi explain his answer, before his own came bubbling up.

"What kind of fool would believe in me?!" he said hotly, and stood up to begin pacing back and forth. He muttered to himself as he did so, before stopping to try and look in Lengi's direction.

"Look at me! I can't see! I'm a god of colors and I can't see!" he exclaimed. This had been coming a long time; multiple centuries of bottled-up emotions all coming to a head. To drive the point home further, he was facing almost completely opposite from the other god.

"I'm surprised there hasn't been a reformation in my following! Why do I still exist as a god? What... what simple-minded creature thinks I could possibly do my job in this state?! I've sinned, and each day I pay more of my debt by stumbling around in this world when I can barely see my own creation!"

After the shouting had subsided, he stood, panting heavily. That... that felt good. But he was still a god, so he cleared his throat and fixed his mane, which had become disheveled and bristled.

"I... I-I-I beg your pardon," he stammered, sitting down as the heat dissipated from him. A shaky breath escaped from him.  

[mouselet]

Lengidökk blinked and watched as the other god got up and paced agitatedly while arguing. In fact, the striped male wasn't entirely certain if Wingu was arguing with Lengi...or himself. This was an ideal time to smile and nod...except that those were reactions the blind god couldn't see, couldn't sense. Which meant the only way to respond was with words.

"No no, I understand that this has troubled you for a long time," Lengi reassured the other. "It's...cathartic to let it all out, even to a stranger." Well, he hoped they wouldn't really be strangers by the end of this, but perhaps that was what Wingu needed. Far be it for him to judge another's needs.

"You exist because somewhere out there are people who believe in you and pray to you. If your blindness is a punishment, then it reflects only upon you as an individual being, and not upon you as the god of your domain." The wintery god paused and considered his next words.

"It may be that you cannot see the world you act upon, at least, not as you would want to, but I have heard tell that those who were not always blind still understand the difference between colors. Can you not let memory guide you in fulfilling your role?" It was all he could think to offer Wingu, not knowing anything more about the other god, nor how he came to be so deprived.  

[Gene Wilder]

Wingu dipped his head down apologetically. He didn't mean to go into a frenzy like that, it just happened!

"Memory?" he parroted. The god looked back up, tilting his head a little. He must've seen what colors were really like, surely. Surely! As he tried to jog his memory, his tail flicked to and fro like a metronome. It slowly stopped as he came to the conclusion.

"I... I never really did get a good look. I was..." He looked down, terribly ashamed and terribly embarrassed.
"I was only looking at myself."  

[mouselet]

Lengi waited eagerly as Wingu searched his memory. It seemed so easy to him, but then again, he'd never once had to worry about having to see. It was far too easy to dismiss another's handicap, and he didn't want to be so cruel. Still, he only anticipated success.

But the other god's movements didn't look like those of someone who'd found what he was looking for. He looked...disappointed. And shamed. Which made a rather lot of sense when paired with his spoken words. The striped male opened his mouth to reply, but shut it with a snap. he didn't want to alienate Wingu and really, the more he learned, the more it became clear why somebody felt it was necessary to punish (or curse) the god of colors with blindness.

"Well, aren't there associations that we've all made with colors? Snow and grass, sky and sun?" He wasn't going to give up on Wingu, damnit! The solstice was about hope, and Lengi was certain that he hadn't exhausted all his options yet!  

[Gene Wilder]

Wingu had to give Lengi credit, he was certainly more chivalrous and polite than most other gods he'd run into. The god tried to give a smile, but given his posture, he looked even more pitiful.

"I... I suppose you're right," he admitted. Finally, some progress! But the male still looked forlorn.

"But... but it's been so long. I don't even remember what they look like! To me, the world was simply a stage when I was younger. A drab setting that made me shine the brightest. I mean, sure, I did think of myself as being the most beautiful and colorful, but-"

Wingu suddenly stopped. He looked straight at Lengi this time, realization washing over his features.

"I thought I was better than all of those. The other gods, they..." He shook his head for a moment, trying to get the idea straight.
"Forgive me, Lengidökk. This idea may seem heretical of me, but... when I was sentenced to this fate, the gods who had implored Mkodi, they were... almost glad. I'm certain of it."

The god's gaze hardened a bit.
"Gods are prey to jealousy, just as mortals are, aren't they?"  

[mouselet]

The striped male watched eagerly, having little compunction about staring at someone who (probably) couldn't tell he was doing it. Lengi willed Wingu to succeed. He'd never felt, at any time, that he was unable to fulfill his role and tend to his domain, but imagined it must be an incredibly awful emotion. As such, the god of the winter solstice wanted to help Wingu through this.

His shoulders slumped as Wingu began speaking again and mentioned that he couldn't remember. How could you not remember...well, if you didn't really have a memory of that life...but still! Colors suffused all living things, and Lengidökk couldn't imagine a world without them.

Instead of focusing on Wingu's failure, he directed his attention to the other male's much more philosophical question.

"Well, yes," he answered. "If we're born of mortals' belief, it only stands to reason that they shape us and influence in a very realistic way. They can't begin to understand us if they have nothing in common with us. So when they imagine us, they imagine us with lives and feelings much like their own, though still distinctly different." And there were gods who had once been mortal - that wouldn't be possible if the similarities weren't there to begin with.  

[Gene Wilder]

Aha, so that was it! Wingu nodded, confirming his own suspicions. Perhaps his blindness had been too harsh a punishment. Could Mkodi have given in to pressure from the other gods?

If the creator herself gave in to pressure, then those gods should be punished. I knew I was innocent! How could vanity be a crime, anyway? he thought, the questions buzzing in his mind like a hornet's nest. For the moment, though, he set them aside, and instead focused on the theories of Lengi.

And what he said actually struck a chord. It struck very, very deep. Wingu's eyes widened a bit as he realized something.

"Then... oh gods," he murmured in shock.
"Then perhaps this was in Mkodi's grand design all along? If I was meant to be blind?"

The god again looked pleadingly to Lengi.

"Suppose you could never see the solstices again. Wouldn't you value them even more than any mortal ever could?"