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Sun
The people of His world, they bask in His rays like a lizard on a rock, a drawing of a maiden on an earthen plate, dried outside on another blazing day;
The lizard basks so that he might warm himself, give itself some energy; the person does so for much the same reason—the cosmos lights up their hearts as it shines down. His followers give themselves to Him, offering their bodies as they loll around in the manifestation of His will and His strength. To encourage His favour, they cover themselves in potions, oils, creams—all the perfumes of the world slathered upon skin and skin and skin—all in an attempt to make their flawed mortal form more pleasing to His streaming eye;
The Sun knows a heretic at a glance, for those that shun His gift bear instead the mark of the Moon, His twin sister: pallid grey in face of their defiant thought. On them, for He knows who they are, He bestows a plague, that their arms and legs may burn, as their souls wither away in their rotten flesh for the sin of disbelief;
For the Sun is a callous god and a harsh god, a cruel and unforgiving god. He stares down at the earth in some places, unblinking, blackening His people and hardening their reserve. In other places, He hides, leaving the sky as grey as the skin of his non-believers. Even so, none dare look the Sun God in the eye, for even the most humble and pious of sacrifices will be burned to the core by his gaze.
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