WARNING! The following page contains spoilers for the lore of Worlds Adrift
I left my moustache and earrings at the door with my shoes.
At the altar of Cristella, I kneel. I have waited for hours in the temple throng, since the god will see only one at a time when her festival burns.
At noon, here sun burst as it always does, and the sky was flooded with white light. Now, at night her friends the moons speak the same way. I place candles into the mouths of Cristella, and I turn the dial for each of my prayers.
Creation, I lit a candle of ambrette, for the seeds for life itself.
Preservation, a candle of cherry blossom, for the bloom and beauty of it.
Desctruction, a candle of deathly white petals, for which there is no fitting end.
For Limbo, I prayed in the violence of silence.
I lit a fifth for rebirth, and the resumption of the cycle thereafter.