Viatica, The Wayfarer

Who am I?  I am all you know, and all you'll see. All anyone sees, one day. I am the end of everyone.
Why do you shake? Do not be afraid. We have met before, many times. It is okay that you do not remember. I remember all of you, but I am always forgotten. Except in whispers.
Why do you want to run? Do not be startled. I am here for you. It is your time after all. You're being called to return. You have so much left to do.
Shall I hold your hand? Shall we walk together? Or do you wish to escape? I cannot recommend leaving the path. People get lost off the path. And you oughn't get lost. You won't be home in time for dinner. What will your mother think? What will your father think?
No, worry not of them. They have already moved on. But that's why you should hurry along. I'm sure they miss you. They may even see you once again. Or not.
But it doesn't matter If you never see them again. Because you'll have a new mother. You'll have a new father. And they will love you, So very, very much. Do you remember that feeling? The warmth of your mothers lips on your cheek before bed? The grip of your father's hand on your waist as he lifted you up? Your sibling holding your hand when you were scared. And you staving off those bullies when your sibling was under threat.
You have so many beautiful memories. I see them all. And I want the best for you, little lamb. I want you to be happy. So please, follow me. I know someone who will be delighted to meet you, Again.

Divine Domains

Soul Collection

Holidays

Samhain: The day of darkness, Samhain (pronounced sow-in) occurs on the midway point between the autumn equinox and the winter solstice. It is a pronouncement of the beginning of the darkest part of the year, and so The Cimmerian is thrown a large festival to help guide communities through this harsher part of the world. It is a night of guising and trickery; large bonfires are lit, and masquerading and guising are popular pastimes, as are drinking and revelry. This is also seen as a day where the dead, ghosts, and metaphysical beings more easily transit to-and-from the Prime Material, as it is seen as The Cimmerian is loosening his guard upon the darkness for a mere night. Talrina and Viatica are frequently seen playing upon the Prime Material, able to more freely interact with living souls on this day more than any.
Night of Last Light: On the last day of the Obon festival - commonly practiced by those of Ezo or Elvish decent - The Night of Last Light is a departing to all the souls. Wishing well to all departing souls, prayers are gifted to Talrina and Viatica for safe passage into the next life. In commemoration, paper lanterns with candles or oil wells upon them are lit, and then the lanterns are sent out down a river, into an open body of water, or the ocean. Where water is not available, paper lamps are constructed to be sent into the air as small blimps.

Mental characteristics

Personal history

Prym was a young satyr, living near the Heart of the Woods, early in the 7th Age, during The Age of Eclipse. She was part of a small fey community, near the holiest part of the woods, who had little contact with the nearby Elves who revered the space. Their clan was simple and traditional, and Prym was happy.
One day, as darkness slowly began to fall, Prym was bored. All of her family had gathered together for drugs and alcohol, and were singing and dancing. But she didn't like these songs, and she didn't feel like dancing. Then she saw them: fireflies, some of the first of the season. She was elated, and begged her papa to catch them. Prym was gifted her trusty net, and told by her papa to bring them back in a jar to light the camp. She frolicked away, between the trees, past the deer, and into the fields. How long she spent, she wasn't sure. But soon enough, she gathered a full jar of fireflies.
She hurried back through the forest, so excited to show everyone. They were so bright! They would light up the camp very well, almost like a dozen candles. She hurried toward the heat and the orange of the camp.
And she stopped. She didn't mean to kick them. Her uncle, Tory. He must have wandered away from camp and fallen asleep by this root. But his nose... It was wrong. Was he drunk? Did he fall and hurt himself? She called to her uncle, and pushed at his forehead.
His head rolled over the root, and then down the side of the stump. She saw the rest of his body where it laid, and then the blood on her hands. She dropped the jar and screamed, and the fireflies scattered into the trees.
"One more. Capretto. Get her."
Thud, thud, thud came the footsteps. The hulking figure was thrice her size, an absolute brute of green skin, tattoos, tusks, and braided hair. Every muscle in her twitched, ready to turn and run, but her mind couldn't think. It was blinded by the lights. The beautiful lights.
"You're not scared of me? How brave."
She screamed, but no noise came out. She fell, and then felt herself fly among the lights. She was eye level with the man. Her arm and bones strained.
"You remind me of my daughter. She wears a dress like that. Makes me almost want to keep you."
"Pl... pl... help.... pl..."
"Too bad. Boys can't pass up good capretto. Take a deep breath. It's better that way."
"N... papa... please.... I..."
She saw the man, and smelt his musk, all among the pretty lights, as she felt her head twist.
______
"I'm trying to help you."
"I won't hurt you."
"I help people get to where they need to go."
A memory. A dream. What was it? She couldn't remember. But it was such a nice dream. A man who danced among blue fireflies. A man with a dove. He was so nice to her, and yet she was so scared. She could finally run again. She ran and ran from the nice man, until she slipped and fell. She was lost, dark, alone. Until it was all just a bad dream.

__________
Prym grew up once more. And yet, the vague memories remained. Of nets, and fireflies. And him. The beautiful man, with the beautiful dove. And so she heard tales across the land, and she knew then, that it was him. And knew that if she saw him again, she wouldn't cry like that, ever again.
The memory faded, like a forgotten dream. But she held on, so strongly, so desperately, to remember any of it. She forgot it all, as all forget their early dreams. She felt so sad, and yet, some bits remained. She knew what made her happy - all that was left. She did not like to play, or frolic, or sing, or dance. She liked to run. She liked to move. She felt a purpose in the motion. She knew she was running somewhere, but did not know a destination. She eventually ran to a temple in an Elvish colony. They needed priestesses, and she accepted. She helped the clerics, and felt drawn to those who were served their last rites. So many people, so sad; so much crying, but why? They were only gone for now. There had to be something else, right?
And so she continued her duties as a priestess, eventually devoting herself to Talrina. He served a noble goal, one that many did not like. But she felt a kindred heart with him.
Her temple visited the north, on campaign. So many people dying for senseless causes. So many elves, who should live such long lives. She wished she could cry.
Walking between the tents, she passed a cage. Bodies, muddy, musky, braided. One caught her eye. The soldiers told her not to enter, but she didn't listen. The others flexed themselves, but she walked to the one on the ground. About a dozen spear impalements and axe cleaves to the chest and abdomen. A broken jaw, likely a mace; missing teeth. A malformed face; looks to have been acid magic. He would never see again. It was a miracle he was even still alive.
"Step away, mutton," one of the other injured ones in the cage said.
She paid him no mind. She knelt at the injured one's side. She touched his face where it was not broken.
He stirred. "Ysaria? No... You... shouldn't... be here."
And for once, in a very long time, Prym smiled.
"I'm here. It's me."
The neighboring wounded growled, "I will ring your neck, mutton!"
"You're... safe?" the man said.
"I'm safe. I came to see you."
"I'm... not pretty... anymore."
"You are always pretty, papa." His blinded eye wept, and he winced in pain. "I'm here with you. Papa, I'm here."
"I'm sorry... was coming... home... Found... a pretty dress... Elvish... Your favorite."
"I saw it, papa. It was so pretty. Thank you."
"Really?" he rattled.
"I did. It is beautiful. Thank you papa."
"I love you... so much..."
"I love you too, papa."
"I... love...."
His hand fell limply on the ground. Prym smiled. The man nearby glared at her, and she nodded.
"Go before I change my mind and get mad again." He wiped away tears.
Prym left. She had forgotten what happiness felt like. she forgot about love. She forgot what anything but running felt like. Now she felt done with running. She walked to the westerly mountains, overlooking the cliffside. She danced, danced, danced upon the grass, and thought of fireflies. She danced, and flew, and couldn't be happier as she saw herself moving faster toward the waves.
She awoke in the twilight of The Drift, and knew where to walk. She came out of the shadows, and into the lights. And he was there. The man with a dove, surrounded by glittering blue lights. He played with them with his hands. Like fireflies.
She ran to him.

Divine Classification

God

Alignment

True Neutral