| Sakura, is the name they were given. Sure enough, shortly after Wisteria passed away, the trees— the few that still lived— bore cherries instead of purple flowers. | For 700 years, they had seen dark skies and drooping branches. the world was suddenly covered in white and red, petals beneath their feet matching the color of their robes, matching the sparks that had taken away the last they had. |
it's hard to say what it means to be a god— for people to rely on you, to be responsible for something. to have a duty, for people to expect something of you. your home, your family, your faith, it's all gone. now, it's time to rebuild it.
it is not enough to be a god.
you must become faith itself.
they waited, and waited. when the sun turned to rain, when the dirt under his paws dried, when the hunting season died and the prey passed them by without a care. but, their god never came.
the news had reached them, at some point, through the wind's hushed whispers and ignored bell tolls— that their god laid dead in some human's backyard, fur stripped and turned into a coat, body forgotten and merging with the soil. but that was impossible, for their god could out-trick these hunters any day, and their god would never break a promise.
but the seasons changed, and they couldn't wait forever. autumn had rolled around, it seemed, the hill losing its bright colors in favor of reds.it was not enough, it seemed, for their god to be taken, for their flowers would follow after them.and who could know what the absence of a god to its sanctuary could mean? the messengers only sweeped the stones clean of leaves, lost without words to deliver. prayers still reached their ears, but they had no power to answer them. believers began to dwindle, their faith lost as their crops died— they couldn't understand that they were the ones to blame, the ones who had brought this upon themselves. humanity always had a way to go around taking the blame.their sky had always been covered by the treetops, rare rays of light illuminating the small shrines littered around the hill. now, it was bright all around, the bright red of autumn engulfing their sacred grounds.'Sakura', they looked up, brushing rebellious strands away from their face. met with a gentle smile, their parent looked down with eyes full of patience. 'the moment you came to me, i knew i would die. it is the natural flow of time. when it happens, don't be sad. even wisteria can't last forever.'surely enough, the purple clusters were nothing but ashes at their feet now.
i dress the altar with offerings (...) oh, but i am nothing if not insatiable.
| likes♥ |
|---|
| folktales, music, dancing, small spaces, giving advice, exploring, tall trees, bell chimes, head rubs, playing with birds |
| ♡dislikes |
|---|
| being by themselves, fire, their 'siblings', cold, puzzles, small bugs, brushing their hair |
oblivious
excitable
curious
adaptable
impressionable
fickle
<name> sakura
<age> 600-700...?
<species> fox.
<pronouns> they/them. it's not a big deal, but it makes things less confusing.
<sexuality> demi? hasn't really experienced attraction.
<height+weight> 6'3" x 167lbs | 192cm x 76kg.
Though it is quite common for kitsune to change their shape according to their company, Sakura mostly maintains the image of a young man with long, strawberry blonde hair, dark brown roots peeking out under his bangs. The markings on his face, made from a mixture of flowers and cherries, match the color of his eyes. Likewise, his garments stay in the realm of reds, patterns of cherry trees and petals decorating the furisode length sleeves.He has tall ears and six fox tails, each for a hundred years. His fur is a desaturated tan color, ending with a dark gradient on the tips. Two pairs of wings accompany his ears, quite useless for anything other than differentiating him from messenger foxes.
<mbti> <9w8>
<sanguine> <neutral good>
don't be fooled by their calm demeanor— sakura is, by any and all means, an overgrown child. they have yet to let go of many of the habits they formed when they couldn't even conjure a human form. that is to say, they have a hard time controlling themselves before flickering lights and steep hills, rolling down before anyone can tell them to stop.
in their childishness, one can be almost cruel. it is not a good idea to give a kid the power of a god. they can hardly control their claws when poking at the baby birds who cry for their mothers, who can expect them to be gentle with the few who come to pray? of course, they don't mean to cause pain, it's a consequence of their ignorance.
which does not mean they're completely oblivious of the world. six hundred years is a long time, and being a kitsune's favorite child means getting to hear many tales— whether sakura can put that knowledge to practice, only time will tell.