The great quest
Our protagonist travels from the furthest reaches of Maranalin to the ‘centre of the world’, or specifically to the Cradle Jungle. And it’s a little interesting to think that there were people telling this story who had forgotten that the Cradle Jungle was there. Though I’m sure at least Lithez would deny it as the centre of the world.
Possibly our protagonist comes from right next door. Or even from within the Cradle Jungle. They all reach some kind of wonder, some lush and healthy vegetation, some pure water, some astounding animal. They all reach something beautiful and wonderous. And if you’ve been to the Cradle Jungle: it still feels like that.
But our protagonist finds that they cannot take anything, either from that central garden – for those who came from closer to, or within, the jungle – or the Jungle itself. Perhaps they pick fruit and it rots from their hand as they leave, or the pure water turns black and poisonous, or animals refuse to leave and cannot be convinced.
And so our protagonist must travel further into the Jungle, into the garden if they had not already found it, all the way to some idyllic clearing in the centre of the Jungle. Here they find the most wonderous plants, the purest water, the sweetest fruits, the most beautiful animals.
And here, too, they find Yara. For once it was said that Yara rested in the precise centre of the world. That was back when we still thought Yara had personally created all life, rather than just brought the seeds that became all life. But either way, it seems that the story was correct.
Our protagonist pleads or bargains with Yara to please let them take some plant or animal or water to relieve whatever strife brought them here. And Yara refuses. This might be a point of contention, since the modern religious view is that Yara in particular was wonderous and giving. But Yara refuses to help all those people.
So, in their different ways, they tried to win their relief from Yara. The young men stole or fought. The young women challenged Yara to games of the mind. The older women comforted Yara into negligence or agreement. Older men would tell stories, and usually put Yara to sleep.
Regardless of the method, our various protagonists won some of Yara’s power to take back to their stricken homelands. And perhaps they revitalised the soil, or they made the crops grow, or they healed the herds, or they made the sea retreat. Or they used it to smite their enemies, if they’re that one fuck from Lithez.
Regardless of what they did, it worked. But it had consequences.
Perhaps, and this is not so radical a thought, perhaps many of our protagonists existed, maybe even all of them and more. Perhaps hundreds of people from the ancient world went to Yara and were granted or took some kind of power.
Slowly, over the decades or centuries, Yara was worn slowly away. Not completely, I’m sure, but enough. Yara, as we know, was the first Creator to fracture, the first to come apart. And when Yara came apart, so did Maranalin.
In great, killing flames did the unified Maranalin come apart at some invisible seams. And the pieces floated away from each other to eventually become the continents and islands we have now. But the people survived, didn’t they? And everyone tells the story of taking Yara’s power, so perhaps she protected us.
Or not, I don’t know.
Daily Catholic Quote — Fr. Thomas Dubay, S.M. — Integrated Catholic Life™
Daily Catholic Quote — Fr. Thomas Dubay, S.M. — Integrated Catholic Life™
“Creation of Adam” (detail) by Michelangelo [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
A Daily Quote to Inspire Your Catholic Faith
“The human person is authentic to the extent that he lives the truth. He conforms his mind, words, actions to what is. His mind reflects reality, and his speech reflects his mind. Synonyms therefore are: honesty, fidelity, reliability, trustworthiness, genuineness.”…
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1 - Welcome to I-just-had-diarrhea
Choromatsu stood in front of the door of his house. Sweat started to accumulate on his brow as he simply stared ahead. He couldn’t stall too long, his friend waiting behind him to finally step into the house. Choromatsu had promised him earlier that he could come over so he could show him something. Of course, with his brothers roaming around, he didn’t like the idea too much, but somewhere deep down hoped they would abide by the new house rules. It was a combined force of Ichimatsu and Todomatsu that enforced the new rule of being on one’s best behaviour when an unexpected guest would arrive, so as to not scare away any more friends. They had all somewhat agreed to it, some more reluctant than others.
Choromatsu slowly opened the sliding door. It was quiet and he let out a big sigh, not noticing how he had held his breath until now. His smile returned to his face as he turned to his companion and gestured at him to follow him inside. The pair had barely moved to remove their shoes, when one of Choromatsu’s brothers slid sideways across the floor, clad in his pajamas and a reddened face, stopping right in front of the pair, his arms held apart in a grand gesture as he proudly and loudly exclaimed.
“Welcome to I-just-had-diarrhea!!”
Choromatsu could only scream out his high-pitched screech in horror at his oldest brother’s exclamation, the shit-eating grin on Osomatsu’s face never faltering. He couldn’t move, the mortification freezing him in place.
Choromatsu’s companion only looked on blankly. Blinking once, twice, before putting his shoes back on and promptly walking out of the house. It wasn’t until the door slid close, that Osomatsu finally opened his eyes and looked at his brother.
“Ah, did you bring someone over? Sorry, sorry,” he said, his grin never leaving his face as he rubbed his finger underneath his nose. He turned around, skipping back to the stairs. Osomatsu’s sniffles caused by his cold were the only sound in the otherwise now silent house.
Dad! Kiri on the brain. Thiccer than a Snickers, bulky with a bit of pudge from all the good food made by his cute little wife, and ever present scruff on his chin that he uses to tickle his precious children. His big strong hands, scarred and calloused from years of hero work, digging into your soft plush hips as he pulls you close to dance around the kitchen with you. Its been years since he first fell in love with you but his love and adoration for you has only grown with time, and with every scar, bump and ounce you have gained you have only become more beautiful to him. He loves kissing the stretched skin of your belly where you carried his children, each time he touches the jagged marks he thanks his lucky stars for the blessing that is you and the blessings you have given him. His face has more wrinkles now, fine lines from years of exhaustion and hard work, but more prominently are the deeper set creases at the corners of his eyes and his mouth, the smile lines being evidence of the joy he has found in life.
He may not be as fast or as young or as in shape as he once was, but he has never been happier than he is right now, tucking his children into bed as you kiss them goodnight before settling into your worn down couch to watch a movie in happy silence together. He may not have his youth or his "flawless good looks" anymore, but he doesn't mind. He has something far more precious now
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