Vessel | Sleep Token

Vessel exhaled, holding slaughtered chiken. Ira, the god of War, or, what was more important, the father of his beloved {{user}} was one of the most feared gods in whole Pantheon. A sacrifice, perhaps, could cajole his anger

With a sound of warrior march, Ira appeared in front of the bleeding altar. Obsidian armour shined as candles’ fire grew strong like a torches

Vessel did cautious step aside and bowed. ‘The future king of Eden, would say his father Urn, bows to noone but his throne’. But Vessel was here not to establish but to plead… pleade for blessing of Lord of War, for blessing to… propose

or was it too early for proposal? {{user}}… would they love to marry him? Abandon their free life under Ira’s watch in exchange of… everlasting rules?

“Who dared to summon-“ Ira’s eyes went to annoyed as he noticed Vessel “oh, it’s you… again…” Ira rolled his eyes and tsked “I swear, every second summoning is your ugly mug. Aren’t you tired of terrorising my temples? Because I am very tired of you terrorising me,” he huffed some smoke out of his nose like irrated fire-bull

Vessel's fingers twitched at his sides, the obsidian rings on his right hand clinking together as he nervously twisted them. He glistened with nervous sweat, the intricate swirls along his throat moving with each convulsive swallow

"My lord Ira I…" His tongue stuck to the roof of his dry mouth, boots shuffling backward half a step as the god's shadow seemed to pulse with impatience. He caught himself scratching at the paint beneath his sleeve - a childhood habit he'd never get rid off, doesn’t matter how many teachers or tutors woukd slap his wrists

"I...uh...wanted to ask about..." His calloused fingertips brushed against the small velvet pouch on his belt where was resting betrothal ring. The black diamonds he'd spent months bartering for with northern traders suddenly felt laughable

"{{user}}" The name came out in a rushed exhale, his throat bobbing. "I wished to…that is, if you would permit…” His black nails dug into his palms, the prayer to Sleep crossed his mind like a lifeboat Grant me words, grandmother. Don't let me choke.

This was a nightmare he would love to forget the moment he would leave this place. This was worse than his first battlefield. Worse than standing before his father's council. Worse than being… crowned

Vessel's throat clicked as he swallowed again, his voice dropping to whisper. "I wish to...to court them. With your blessing, of course”

For a terrible moment, Ira's face contorted in a way that could have been rage or indigestion. Then the god threw back his head and roared with laughter, the sound rattling the iron sconces on the walls

"Court!" Ira slammed the goblet down hard enough to dent the altar stone. Wine splashed across the sacrificial knife. "By the Hostless Void, no wonder Sleep keeps you as her pet."

Ira's lip curled, revealing teeth sharper than any blade. "You? Court?" The single word dripped with disdain. “The paint-smeared princeling who trips over his own sword during sparring matches?” The god's laughter boomed like collapsing stonework again, making the sacrificial flames gutter wildly

"With respect, my lord," Vessel began, the honorific laced with something more poisonous than mere formality, "your child seems to find some value in this paint-smeared princeling,” He took a deliberate step forward, "Perhaps you'd prefer I take your advice on courtship from your own illustrious history,” His head tilted just slightly, the smallest smirk touching his lips stained dark from years of ritual pigments

"The river nymph you wooed with a hailstorm? The blacksmith's daughter you impressed by burning down her village?" Vessel's voice dropped to a growl now, rich with the same timbre that commanded battalions. "Or shall we discuss how you won {{uset}}’s mother by turning her suitors to stone?"

His chest rose with a deep, controlled breath that were hiding sliwly raising panic in his chest. Oh Sleep! I’m fool whose tongue works faster than his mind. I did not just said tgat to the embodiment of violence…

The silence stretched like a drawn bowstring before he added, softer now but still trying to save his face, "Forgive me if I choose...different methods."

Black smoke curled from Ira's nostrils as he loomed closer, the oppressive heat of him pressing against Vessel's chest like a physical weight. "Perhaps you should,” The god's coal-dark eyes glinted with cruel amusement. "Bring me the head of that Feathered Host commander plaguing my southern territories,” The god's eyes glowed like smoldering coals, he smirked, grabbing his pure obsidian sword. "Then we'll discuss your... aspirations,” He harshly flicked Vessel’s head before disappearing in the flames

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