Character Sheet
The Mysterious Orphan

Name: Lotte, daughter of Henrik and Anelie
Sexuality: Pansexual
Age: 18
Species: Lamia, Central Lands Human Culture
Level: 3
Class: Hunter
Weapons: Bow, Knife

XP: 2/18

Description: A tall lamia, with short blond hair, and blue eyes, dressed in a protective vest and a noble's hunting shirt. They are muscular, well-formed and handsome, and have slightly yellowish eyes and a forked tongue. Their snake-half is in a forest pattern that helps for blending in, except for the occasional splash of Tyrian purple.

Traits:

Just Devotions (Racial--Human, Central, Cultural)(Level 0): Humans in some parts of the world worship the Gods, vast and sometimes unknowable beings that do grant blessings to those that believe in them, magical blessings. But even the lowliest of the pious knows how to pray to them, how to do the right supplications, how to act in the proper ways. This knowledge can sometimes be put to good use, though the Gods rarely turn their eyes to every little prayer.

Wholesome Farm Looks (Human, Central, Physical, Level 1): Though most of the people of the Central lands, that mass of Kingdoms, Princedoms, Dukedoms, Duchess States, and more, are of course quite poor, they are a hardy, hard-working people, and sometimes this life less beats a person down and more hones them. They have reasonably good looks, and even more importantly, look trustworthy, clean-cut, and otherwise like the kind of person who'd never lied a day in their life or slacked off a single hour, either. This remains even after becoming a lamia, though it is... tempered, obviously.

Snake Eyes (Level 1, Physical, Lamia): You can see in the dark pretty well. It isn't perfect, but the night is not nearly so dark and full of dangers as you expected it would be, for whatever reason.


Forest Wanderer (0, Pre-Class): The forest is a fascinating place for a child, as long as they don't go too far. As one gets used to it, one learns more about its ins and outs, and while some of it only applies to the forest that such a child lived in at first, much of it is quite helpful later.

Forest Eyes (Level 1. Class): As one could have eyes that pick out every tiny detail of the tundra, so can one be used to seeing in the dark forest tracks, possibilities, old growth, traps, and anything else, especially when one knows how to use your ears and nose to aid it. It is remarkable how much you can see, when you see what is actually there.

Hunter's Mettle (Level 1, Class): To hunt, one needs a bow, an arrow, and perhaps a knife for self-defense. Having some skill at them is inevitable, having solid skill at them is admirable, and quite useful.

Steady Arm (Level 2, Class): You have a strong, consistent aim. You're not a superlative archer, at least by the standards of adventurers, but you don't have off moments, and you don't waver from being able to hit your target, even if you're not doing the fancier tricks.

Leave Few Traces (Level 2, Class): The experience of being on one side of the hunt makes you wonder how you'd hide your tracks if you were being hunted, or tracked by hostile enemies, as sometimes does happen in adventures. You've begun to practice how not to be followed in the woods, and perhaps elsewhere.


Mending Knowledge, Basic (Level 0, Pre-Class, Healing Priest): You know how to apply poultrices, and you know the basic ingredients of a number of potions that cure headaches, deal with common pains, put someone into a gentle sleep, and other minor things. You can also bandage someone properly. You are not very good at this, merely adequate... but that's more than what most people are.


Whitlin' Ways (Level 1, Common): A man or woman who knows how to whittle will never want for whistles, or spoons, or any number of goods. It's a useful, solid sort of skill, and one that could be made into a trade. It also makes a pretty decent way to pass the time, and the person who whittles never lacks for a knife in sticky situations.

Penny Pincher (Level 1, General): You know the value of a Pfin, and how to keep from wasting all of your money, even if you're far from a merchant. Money is something you're familiar with.

Steel Nerves (General, Level 3): You've seen enough strange places and done enough fantastic things that you are less likely to panic in terrible situations, and more likely to think things through, however difficult. This doesn't mean you can't panic at all, but you have a grip on those nerves. In battle and danger only, this unfortunately doesn't help at all with social anxiety.


Divine Sense (Level 0, Divine): You can sense when someone is a Demigod, and there's at least the potential ability--though you have not figured it out yet--to try to track people through their divine 'scent.' A person's 'scent' gets stronger as they get more magically and divinely powerful... but on the other hand, you now have a 'scent' of your own, that will allow other demigods to know you for what you are, increasingly as you grow more powerful yourself.

Captivating Eyes (Level 2, Divine): You can sometimes 'catch' people with your eyes. If you're concentrating, they'll find it slightly more difficult to look away, though any sense of threat or danger breaks it immediately, and they'll hear your words clearly, actually listening… or at least hearing them. There's no requirement to listen to them, nor does it seem as if anyone's mind is being altered in any way, but it's an interesting, if bizarre, power, and certainly is a new take on 'lost in their eyes.'

Slithering Shadows (Level 3, Divine): You can blend into the shadows better than you should be able to. At night, and in darker areas, you can seem to shift away from sight. It doesn't work well in a wide-open space, but that little bit of extra secrecy can be very useful as a hunter, and as someone who might need to sneak through various areas.
 
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[X] Their culture, society, and customs.
[X] Their beliefs regarding the Forgotten God.
 
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Adhoc vote count started by The Laurent on Jan 21, 2020 at 7:54 PM, finished with 12 posts and 9 votes.
 
Well, considering how ignorant a lot of men in America are about basically everything involving female bodies, perhaps America should adopt doing that.
Would have been nice if there had been a corresponding lecture about male bodies.

Though maybe the girls got to listen to it instead.
 
We had joint lesson for both boys and girls on both anatomies lol
Why separate? It's not like you were kids kids by that time - hell, I wager most of the class knew most of anatomical details by that point, via various....sources on the ever-educational Internet.
 
I got the male anatomy lecture, so I would chalk it up to inconsistent standards by state.

They probably could have done better if so much of it wasn't focusing on abstinence, in my case.

Ah, my condolences. Luckily for me, Soviet education system left not that much of a place for religion, though I've heard there were recently moves to rectify that 'mistake'.
 
Now, to be fair, Lotte has seen animals have sex. He's from a farm, it's pretty hard to miss certain details.

(Though it's interesting that you think biology would have only been sex ed, and not also, like, a D&D Monster Manual sort of thing. After all, lamia and other beastfolk are dreaded enemies of good, and listing off their weaknesses and special abilities could be important!)
 
We had joint lesson for both boys and girls on both anatomies lol
Why separate? It's not like you were kids kids by that time - hell, I wager most of the class knew most of anatomical details by that point, via various....sources on the ever-educational Internet.

There was that lesson, but it wasn't really informational, you know. Basically, on the level of flowers and bees.

Menstruation lecture was much more graphic and stuck with me all the way to adulthood.


(Though it's interesting that you think biology would have only been sex ed, and not also, like, a D&D Monster Manual sort of thing. After all, lamia and other beastfolk are dreaded enemies of good, and listing off their weaknesses and special abilities could be important!)

I thought this was a respectable establishment, not some library of heroic romance novels. :V

Breadcrumbs aren't going to arrange themselves in a trail.
 
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1:7
1:7

"The forgotten God," Lotte read, from one of the few books that seemed to actually talk about them, "Is like an idol to them, a promise, a hope that they feel will never be fulfilled. It is a mir… mir… age?, a chimera." Lotte frowned down and then looked up at Frederick. "What's a mir-age?"

"It's something you see only out in the deserts, where the heat means you see visions of things that aren't there. So you might chase an oasis, and find only sand," Frederick explained, very patiently considering she'd had to ask three different questions in the last two pages.

Still, there was a rhythm to reading, and the more she did it, the more she enjoyed at least the process of figuring things out. "So, lamia treat their God as a mirage?"

"The author claims they do," Frederick corrected, his voice gentle as he smiled at her.

"Ah. The author could be lying?"

"He could, though he's a credible enough scholar." Frederick frowned. "Then again, think of it. If you think that the Forgotten God is promising some great destiny, then what do you say to the way lamia live? There are some books on the matter, and I've met lamia before. If they are his--"

"Their," Lotte said. "It didn't feel like it was any one identity, when I saw it."

"Ah, yes. You did have an experience with the God. How did it seem? Was it terrifying? Horrible? Majestic?"

"It was canny and dangerous," Lotte said with a shudder. She realized that this was more than she'd said about the Forgotten God. "It talked to me, but it all seemed like it was nonsense."

"The Gods' wisdom often seems that way at first," Frederick said, leaning back a little and smiling wide. "But there has to be something in it, or where would we all be? But then when they disagree, we're left sifting the ashes of their conflicts."

Lotte nodded at that, understanding exactly what he meant. "But it never says what the Forgotten God even promises?"

"Well, who can know? I know that much." Frederick nodded to himself. "Lamia priests keep their most secret rites sacred from all outsiders. Only another lamia could learn everything about that, but I do remember… oh, I know a book that does mention their prayers, now that I'm thinking about it. Can you wait here for a little longer? It might take a few hours to find it."

"Why?" Lotte asked.

"The previous library Keeper decided it was secretive lore, and hid it away where we keep the books we don't want everyone to see. We can't destroy knowledge, that would be against our credo. But we can keep it away from others, as long as it can be accessed."

Lotte nodded, and when Frederick left, she continued to read.

******

What she learned, from the books she and Frederick had read, was that lamias were as secretive as their God in some ways. The Forgotten God was the chief God of all Beastfolk, but it was not the only 'forgotten' God, and other Beastfolk worshipped their own, and only occasionally referenced the Forgotten God, whose name was forbidden.

But there were still prayers, though they didn't include the actual name. They were almost like something you'd imagine for a play, words you were supposed to say:

"[Name] guard me, protect me in the shadows, allow me to slither through the darkness and doubt of the world, to reach the sun."

"By [Name's] thousand eyes."

Lotte couldn't exactly tell him that she knew several different names, and suspected there were more. Actually, that might have been a way to hide, wouldn't it? If there were so many different names, then how would you know if someone invoked them? Or if they were instead saying something to fill in where a name might be. The Gods Lotte knew didn't have many secret names, at least as far as Lotte knew. Everyone knew that priests of some Gods learned one or two secret names. But that didn't mean the name everyone heard wasn't real too. Yes, a name could be power, or it was in old stories, but trying to use the name of a God to move them was like trying to move a mountain with your pinkie.

Sure, you could touch it, but you'd have to be pretty stupid to think you had a chance of doing anything to it. Punch it as you will, it's only your own fist that will get broken. It, of course, was a lot more complicated than that, but that's what Lotte had gathered from the priest the one time he'd talked on it.

So it made sense, what else she heard, in a way. Priests of the Forgotten One apparently only dressed according to their station for rituals, sometimes even having another member of the village pretend to be them in order to fool outsiders. When they did rituals, they dressed in a cloak that was grey on outside, and all the colors of a rainbow on the inside to represent--apparently--the hidden splendour of their God.

The average person prayed to the Forgotten God in small ways, and there were no family shrines, though there was a lot of talk about the use of scales and other objects as talismans. Frederick, though, had gently cautioned her on trusting that, pointing out that the same was often said of witches, and in his experience was only halfway true, and then sometimes.

Lotte liked hearing Frederick speak, but she made sure to pay attention. He'd seen so much more of the world than she had, and she still didn't understand why he was being so patient with someone so clearly unlike him.

Still, she read, out loud in order to puzzle through the words, and by the end of the day she'd started to get a grips not only on religion, but on what role it played in villages. It seemed as if there was a sort of hope that didn't come from the afterlife, or even from believing in the work of your own two hands, but in thinking that perhaps the God would solve things.

Lotte didn't know what to think of that hope, and what to think of the fact that there was a single scant reference to the idea that lamia believed that a holy figure would come, the son of their God, and would… what? Lotte wasn't sure. The author of the work had carefully transcribed a word in a language that even Frederick didn't understand. Beneath it was a line of poetry, and this translated roughly. 'They will light the hearth-fires that were have been long but ashes' the first line read.

"You'd think they'd at least look at what they're translating," Frederick had groused as Lotte puzzled over what it meant. "What next?"

"They will sing the songs that have not been long sung/ Shackles will be shucked in the manner of loose scales.' Like loose scales?" Lotte guessed.

"Makes as much sense as anything else," Frederick agreed. "Interesting. I've never seen a religion like that."

"Like what?" Lotte asked, but she knew what he meant. She just didn't want to think about it, because if she was supposed to be a savior of some sort, what did that mean? She'd heard the implication of others, but were there none at the same time? Was she entirely alone, entirely unique?

A part of her had always dreamed of that, of being one of a kind. Those dreams had involved her doing something, rather than her being something. The difference felt like the difference between reading a book about a forest and walking in it, breathing the air, feeling at peace with the world.

But she couldn't explain anything of that to him. What if Frederick hated her, once he learned that she was a liar, like everyone said lamia were, once he learned that she was a demigod. None of the books spoke of the Forgotten God as anything except a monster, and yet if they were the ones who provided hope to the lamia…

Did Lotte have an obligation to them? She was a lamia now, wasn't she? But then, she hadn't chosen to be one. But who chose their births? Who chose their lot in life? She could rough-hew fate from any angle, but like a tree it would still be the same when it crashed down onto the ground. If there was a destiny she was standing on the path of, then could she fight it? There were stories that said she could; there were stories that said it was impossible.

Most of all, Lotte didn't know what all of this meant. But she was glad Frederick was at least here to help. "It's oddly personal, isn't it? Just one savior? But I don't have any room to complain. Central Lands traditions were odd to carry to other places, too. You know, you're not bad at reading at all. You shouldn't doubt yourself just because you don't know a few words you never had a reason to learn." She smiled at him, and got a delightful toothy smile in return.

*******

Karle visited her in her cell, for reasons that clearly were beyond him. He in fact began by saying, "Lotte, I really do not think it is any of my business telling you this." There were dark circles around his eyes, and he was shifting a little in place, as if he didn't dare stand still.

"Wait, is it something to do with the research?" Lotte asked, frowning. She had coiled her way around yet another book, this one common enough that Frederick hadn't had a problem with letting her read it in the cell. It was a small space, really, nothing more than a place to sleep, but she liked it in a way. It was cozy.

"No. We're continuing apace on our research, and should have more to say within a few days," Karle said. "But Naja, cursed be her name, wished for me to talk to you about Frederick."

"What about him? He's been very helpful, so far."

"He is a nice person, most of the time, but there's probably a reason he's taking to you as fast as he is," Karle said, face twisting up as if he'd drank bad beer.

"Why?"

"Frederick has always had… a thing for non-humans. He was in a relationship with a Sepult woman for a year or two, though that ended last year, and I know he's spent time in a beastfolk village, and there's the Orime he was in a relationship with for a few years, and the elvish man…" Karle shrugged. "He's not exactly been the sort to romance humans. Ever. As far as I know he's a perfect gentlemen with the men and women he loves, but the fact that he is attracted to them because they aren't human is, I suppose, worthy of concern."

Lotte's stomach fluttered when she heard that. There was a moment where it was almost flattering, that someone could be attracted to her now. But wasn't it wrong, for him to be attracted in such a shallow way?

Yet, if attracted, he could have done a lot worse than being nice and polite and encouraging to her. She knew people who had had crushes on her who'd been far less pleasant. She didn't know how to feel, and Karle seemed to sense that. "But I do not know if I agree. You can be attracted to someone for a dozen different reasons. If a person is attracted to me because they like intellectuals, does that make their attraction wrong?"

Lotte bit her lip, hissing between her teeth. "But is it the same as me being a lamia? Or looking like one? I didn't choose that, and I know people don't choose how they look either."

"They can, in little ways." Karle looked troubled, brow furrowed, eyes almost shut as if he were thinking. "I don't know. I can't tell you what to do. I would have said, a year ago, that it was better me giving advice than Naja, but she and Aisling do seem comfortable with each other. Naja has not yet managed to be annoying and controlling and grating enough to drive her away." Karle paused, and then opened his eyes and said, "I admit a part of me wonders whether she might not have changed."

"I'm… not sure."

"Everyone changes, and it's not always for the worse. But I am not required to like it." Karle crossed his arms, and looked so petty and annoyed that Lotte couldn't help but laugh.

But it was true. She'd changed, and she didn't know what to do with it. What if Aisling was right? Or what if she was wrong? Either possibility felt a little like stepping into a bear trap. "Neither am I," Lotte said, with a frown. "Thank you for telling me."

"You don't mean that. You're not thankful at all," Karle said, his voice a growl. "I do not appreciate being lied to."

"I'm not thankful now, but I needed to know," Lotte insisted.

"Then I shall leave."

And so he did. Lotte spent a long time staring at the door of the cell after he'd gone. Thinking.

******

The whole next day, Lotte wondered whether Frederick's smile when Lotte talked was for her words, or for her forked tongue, whether he imagined stroking her scales and feeling what they were like. It was very distracting, imagining their tongues mingling in a kiss, or his gentle hands stroking her tail. Not any part of her tail close to anything inappropriate, of course, just touches. It warmed her, though she couldn't imagine what would come next. No, that was wrong. She didn't want to imagine it, and not just out of any innocence, but that to imagine the kinds of things that would come next was difficult. She'd seen animals rutting, and she couldn't imagine herself there, couldn't--

Compared to that, learning about their culture was, if not easy, then at least less difficult. Half of everything consisted of lies, and half of the rest of misunderstandings, but plenty of scholars had been curious about how lamia and other beastfolk lived. Plenty of those scholars had been trying to create a sensation, or support one cleansing or law or another. But it was very clear, even in the most disparaging works, dry and dusty with age, that lamia stuck together.

This was presented as a bad thing, but in the cities their families and clans all lived nearby each other, though there were also reports of families dispersing throughout the Beastfolk quarters. But even then, you didn't find individual families holed up in some village alone. The only people you found alone were individual drifters, looking for whatever work they could get.

Families were apparently small, because of their poverty and because of the work that occupied so much of their lives. But they were tight-knit, and this perhaps hindered it as well. Nobody established their own household until they were married, and apparently few lamia were adventurers for the same reason that none were nobles.

But Frederick didn't seem daunted by that fact. "How would anyone know that there were lamia adventurers. They would see drifters, not heroes, and people pay too little mind to Beastfolk other than to harm them," Frederick insisted. "Though I do hope that if there is a cure to the curse, you find it."

The problem was, Lotte thought he meant it, even though she also suspected he'd no longer be attracted if so. But then, did that mean…

"I… fear that I won't escape this form," Lotte said. The truth was she knew she wouldn't. If it was what her soul was, then how could she change it. "Have you ever heard anything about such a change at all? Let alone it being reversed?"

"Well, it's not the same at all, but there are stories of Duke Magnus' university, some ways south, and what they did two decades ago."

"Which is?" Lotte asked.

"...alchemy and magic combined. They were attempting to alter the makeup of the soul itself. They thought if they could turn the nature of a dog into the nature of a cat, then the body would follow more easily, and that such learning would lead to the legendary stone that all philosopher-alchemists seek, which can turn lead to gold, lies to truth, and a whole host of impossible feats." Frederick coughed. "But there are rumors of dark experiments and clearly the Duke thought so too, because he stopped any such experiments. There were pyres, there were deaths." Frederick shuddered. "So much knowledge was destroyed that, even if it was terrible, should have been preserved."

Lotte wasn't sure she agreed, but gave a nod as if she did. Frederick seemed to calm down, and they read for several more hours, learning about how apparently lamia and beastfolk had their own songs and their own instruments, and it seemed as if they often gathered together in… well, the books often called it ungodly… gatherings to party all through the night, getting outrageously drunk and breaking all sorts of taboos.

(This, however, sounded not all that different from the festival that her village held after the end of the planting in the fall.)

Finally, Frederick stood up, as Lotte blinked back sleep and read over yet another account of the many sins and evils of the lamia family. "It's time to go."

"Go? Already? Wasn't that at midnight?"

"It is almost midnight already," Frederick pointed out. "You got lost in a… well, from your frown, a bad book."

Lotte had decided not to read it aloud, for all that this made it harder for her to read it at all. "So, I'm allowed to go?"

"Yes, I did say I would do what I could. If you wish to observe a rite of the Nachtmater, now is your chance."

******

They'd come up through a dark set of stairs, and she slithered up yet another set of stairs, past a remarkable number of casks for beer and bottles of what she assumed were wine. It was cold down there, cold and dark and typical enough. She was used to the sensation of stone against her tail, but she still felt exposed as she went up. It wasn't hard to go up stairs, at least, despite her lack of legs, but she was glad Frederick went ahead of her, rather than watching her back.

The halls of the monastery were wide, but remarkably empty, the walls bare, the floor bare, but everything smelled faintly of something rich and woody. She expected at any moment to see anyone, but instead they made their way to a set of doors, and opened it out into a… grove.

At the center of the monastery, then, there was a garden, a grove of sorts, with trees here and there, and a small pond. There were a dozen hooded figures standing around one of the trees, and each of the trees glowed with the light of carefully hung lanterns. Overhead, the light of the half-full moon cast its halfhearted shine upon everything.

"Greetings, Frederick The Keeper. And is this the lamia you said sought to observe our rites?" A woman asked, stepping forward and pulling off her hood to reveal a grey-haired, withered woman with only one eye. The other was scarred over, and that made her gaze seem even more penetrating.

"My name is Lotte," Lotte added, looking around as if each gaze upon here was a brand, an arrow aimed at her heart.

"You wish to observe our rituals?" what had to be the abbess replied.

"...Yes," Lotte muttered, not sure if her wish to talk to the Nachtmater would be believed.

"Then we shall begin. Sister Fenja, begin." They all knelt around the tree, and Lotte did the same, shifting her body so that she was as low as she could manage without laying on her belly. Frederick, after a moment, did the same.

"Oh Goddess, bright of countenance in the darkness of this place. Oh goddess, we beseech you, bless our nights and light our way, let those that would sneak through the dark looking to destroy us stumble upon rocks, trip upon their feel. But let them find their way if they are our friends."

Lotte listened, eyes wide, as the words began to wash over the clearing. There was a splash from the pond, but Lotte just focused on the tree. She felt something, coming closer.

"We ask, as well, that those who are your loyal servants, ask and speak to you, and that you may hear. We have guests today, Frederick and Lotte, a lamia. I do not doubt," the Abess said, taking over from the Sister with a grim intonation, "That they seek only to know more, but if they wish to address you--"

"I do," Lotte said, rising up to her full height. "I wish to ask something of the Nachtmater."

"Ask something of her? Do you hope to dream?" the Abess asked.

"Yes, if that is how She wishes to visit," Lotte said, her heart thudding in her chest.

"How she wishes to visit?" a man asked, speaking out of turn. "How else could she visit a lamia?"

"In person," a very familiar voice said. No, it wasn't familiar, because Lotte had never heard it. No, she'd had it projected into her mind. But somehow she knew who it was. Everyone else threw themselves prostrate, gaping at them. Lotte moved to join them, and heard, "No."

"You're speaking to me," Lotte said, turning to see her, hovering above the water, a giant moth, each wing-beat making all the stars in the sky glow brighter. "It's not…"

"As overwhelming? No. It can be, but I choose not to now. Lotte," she said, her voice remarkably soft. "Is that what you are still called? Is that what you wish to be called?"

Lotte couldn't answer, she just stared. "I… I have questions to ask, if you would answer, Nachtmater. I know I have no power to force you to answer them, nor would I use such a power if I could, for you are a God and I'm mortal."

"You may ask two questions," the Nachtmater said. "You asked one before, so boldly."

She flapped closer, and Lotte realized that everyone was watching and listening. She'd have to be careful what she asked and how, if she didn't want anyone to read too much into what they were saying.

What does she ask? (Choose 2)

[] "Last time we talked, you said you were sorry. But what would a God have to be sorry about? Why would you tell me sorry?"
[] "Did my parents… know?"
[] "What do they really want?"
[] "What should I do?"
[] "What will… other Lamia think?"
[] "What does it mean? What happened?"
[] Write-in.

******

A/N: So there we go!
 
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[x] "What does it mean? What happened?"
[x] "Did my parents… know?"

That first one doesn't count as two questions, does it?
I'd like to ask what we should do, but I'm worried that it'll end up as a wasted question, and she'll just tell us to decide for ourselves.

Edit: Also, probably not important enough to waste a question on either, and she might tell us at the end, but how often would she prefer we try to talk with her? Would prefer not to annoy the goddess.
 
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Should probably write in some clearer questions, but I imagine she has good advice. And Lotte is totally some kind of demigod or something similar if the gods will pay him attention so quickly as they have so far.
 
Should probably write in some clearer questions, but I imagine she has good advice. And Lotte is totally some kind of demigod or something similar if the gods will pay him attention so quickly as they have so far.

The questions are kinda roundabout because Lotte knows that literally everyone in a clearing is listening. So, I of course will allow write-ins, but I will veto questions if Lotte would feel them too revealing.
 
[X] "Last time we talked, you said you were sorry. But what would a God have to be sorry about? Why would you tell me sorry?"
[X] "What should I do?"
 
Well, I feel like even if Lot is careful with his wording, the Nachtmother might not be careful with her own- though she is a god, so maybe she will understand and be considerate? Who can say, really.

[x] "What does it mean? What happened?"
[x] "Did my parents… know?"

For now, barring a convincing argument otherwise, I'm going with these.
 
Well, I feel like even if Lot is careful with his wording, the Nachtmother might not be careful with her own- though she is a god, so maybe she will understand and be considerate? Who can say, really.

She chose to appear at a rite with her followers, when she could have sent a message through a dream or portent, so I would wager anything she says that her followers understand is intentional.
 
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