He lifts his hand in a small gesture—not entirely dismissive, more noncommittal. A sense that this is a topic he's spoken of before, and neither cares to have his thoughts changed nor change anyone else's. "Folk will call anything a god given half the chance. If it's rooted in truth, I doubt the truth is anything grand."
If the Singularity is a monolith as he thinks, then creatures and entities must've crawled out of it at some point, long ago. He's not certain they were particularly like the Summoned are now. It could easily be some monster, a demon, a creature that people could not understand and began to tell tales of until it grew and grew to become an entire people's faith. Maybe they believe the Singularity is a god itself. Who knows? Faith is faith. It's not a concept he holds for himself, but he knows people who do—was taught by a priestess for part of his childhood—and if it brings them some comfort, who is he to dissuade them? But there's a difference between praying at a temple for guidance and believing in sacrifices and blood spilled. (In abandoning your child because Destiny claimed it had to be done.) He's walked through too many villages who subscribe to the latter, when their god is little more than a monster lurking.
He supposes, when a beast will claw away your children no matter what, it feels less painful to believe it part of some greater plan. Where Solvunn is concerned, he'd prefer if it were merely a matter of harmless shrines and rituals. But it's difficult to say one way or another.
no subject
If the Singularity is a monolith as he thinks, then creatures and entities must've crawled out of it at some point, long ago. He's not certain they were particularly like the Summoned are now. It could easily be some monster, a demon, a creature that people could not understand and began to tell tales of until it grew and grew to become an entire people's faith. Maybe they believe the Singularity is a god itself. Who knows? Faith is faith. It's not a concept he holds for himself, but he knows people who do—was taught by a priestess for part of his childhood—and if it brings them some comfort, who is he to dissuade them? But there's a difference between praying at a temple for guidance and believing in sacrifices and blood spilled. (In abandoning your child because Destiny claimed it had to be done.) He's walked through too many villages who subscribe to the latter, when their god is little more than a monster lurking.
He supposes, when a beast will claw away your children no matter what, it feels less painful to believe it part of some greater plan. Where Solvunn is concerned, he'd prefer if it were merely a matter of harmless shrines and rituals. But it's difficult to say one way or another.