[ Rather than become particularly in ire. Instead, she laughs quite brilliantly and quickly.
How deep and stark the differences there could be, sometimes. Sometimes, it felt all familiar. Was there not even lines in the Chant that she had sung but in her puja to Ganesha, Shiva, Vishnu? Was the tale of Andraste not familiar in its devotions.
But then: ]
Do all the tales here only end in suffering? Is that all anyone has in their heart? No, that is not at all what I meant. I meant love, not in vengeance, but in the raising of two beings higher. The love story of Radha Krishna stopped the heavens. For the night she danced for him, their love was powerful enough that the world itself let the night reign as long as they wanted so that they could be together. We call it the RasLeela. When people are in love, even, and their love is deep and true, we call it dancing the RasLeela. We believe in such things so deeply, that even if you could not sing a single prayer, to know your lover's name is to know the name of God.
[ She huffs another bit of laughter, still not furious particularly. Because yes, they had said it all, hadn't that? It affords her a bluntness that she might not give others, in truth. ]
As for Andraste - we would call that another matter entirely. But... our tales of such things are quite different. I could tell you of Rani Padmavati's Jauhur, or the rage of Goddess Sita.
cw: self immolation, mass suicide, well, maybe in a lil
How deep and stark the differences there could be, sometimes. Sometimes, it felt all familiar. Was there not even lines in the Chant that she had sung but in her puja to Ganesha, Shiva, Vishnu? Was the tale of Andraste not familiar in its devotions.
But then: ]
Do all the tales here only end in suffering? Is that all anyone has in their heart? No, that is not at all what I meant. I meant love, not in vengeance, but in the raising of two beings higher. The love story of Radha Krishna stopped the heavens. For the night she danced for him, their love was powerful enough that the world itself let the night reign as long as they wanted so that they could be together. We call it the RasLeela. When people are in love, even, and their love is deep and true, we call it dancing the RasLeela. We believe in such things so deeply, that even if you could not sing a single prayer, to know your lover's name is to know the name of God.
[ She huffs another bit of laughter, still not furious particularly. Because yes, they had said it all, hadn't that? It affords her a bluntness that she might not give others, in truth. ]
As for Andraste - we would call that another matter entirely. But... our tales of such things are quite different. I could tell you of Rani Padmavati's Jauhur, or the rage of Goddess Sita.