When in Rome. Logan's never been much of a religious man. The promise of redemption has run hollow too many times in his life to go chasing that particular goose again. What he is though (in some part thanks to the ambient tranquility of this place) is willing to listen. Anything he's ever found that came close to a real answer has come from practicing that much at least. He's interested for experience sake, and more than willing to be patient if it means hearing whatever this Oracle has to say.
Having spent a great deal of this month adorning the temple with intricate wagara patterns he hasn't realized it if he's inadvertently stumbled into appeasing whatever force governs this place.
Never the type to overvalue either material things or what he knows, his sacrifice is practical, readily accessible and about the most valuable thing he's ever had to offer anyone — his blood of course. The sacrament of his own biological mixed blessing.
"Just one eh?" He rubs the back of his neck trying to think practically about this. What would it serve anyone here to ask something about himself? He looks at the coloured light of his Scrywatch a moment and wonders if maybe questions about himself aren't all so removed from understanding this place.
"Do gods like you approve of good things because they're good, or are good things good because the gods approve?" he asks, but the more he thinks about his question the more he already feels like he's wasted it. "Maybe I'm just looking for grace for those of us who tend to do wrong so other folks won't have to."
James 'Logan' Howlett
Having spent a great deal of this month adorning the temple with intricate wagara patterns he hasn't realized it if he's inadvertently stumbled into appeasing whatever force governs this place.
Never the type to overvalue either material things or what he knows, his sacrifice is practical, readily accessible and about the most valuable thing he's ever had to offer anyone — his blood of course. The sacrament of his own biological mixed blessing.
"Just one eh?" He rubs the back of his neck trying to think practically about this. What would it serve anyone here to ask something about himself? He looks at the coloured light of his Scrywatch a moment and wonders if maybe questions about himself aren't all so removed from understanding this place.
"Do gods like you approve of good things because they're good, or are good things good because the gods approve?" he asks, but the more he thinks about his question the more he already feels like he's wasted it. "Maybe I'm just looking for grace for those of us who tend to do wrong so other folks won't have to."