He looks.

He doesn't know what he's expecting to see, but a salamander isn't it. 

"I am the Great God Tholassi, and you have been chosen as my prophet."

...he's finally snapped, hasn't he. 

It's not like he didn't know he was rotting from the inside out and he was going to collapse in on himself at some point, but —

Tholassi can still read minds. Well, sort of. Humans are hard to read in general, all fleeting impulses and unspoken flinches and unacknowledged desires. But he can get the shape of things.

He presses on. "You have been chosen for your unmatched purity, faithfulness, and devotion."

Completely unmatched, as far as Tholassi can tell, he thinks sourly.

Okay. That's — he can deal with this. All the lies and sins and impurities built up and now he's snapped and he's, just going to have to live with that. Assuming nobody tortures him to death for hubris. 

It isn't normally this hard. Humans like being prophets.

He tries, "You shall not question your Lord and God and Creator!"

He flinches, and then presses the bases of his palms into his eyes. 

Two days should help — no, better make it three — 

"You shall obey your God with purity of will and without doubt or question!"

He flinches again. 

It's — he shouldn't — 

(He's broken what would his God want from him other than fasting to purge the — he doesn't want to call it brokenness but this feels different than the rot that seeps through his thoughts when he lets it —) 

Not only does he-- admit it, it won't be different if you deny it-- only have one believer, his believer is an absolute bloody mess. 

"I am your God, Sataro, and you have been chosen for the most solemn of duties."

"What is the most solemn of duties," he says, instead of any of the things he's thinking. 

"I have been trapped as a salamander by demons. You must go to the Great Library, find a natural philosopher, and learn how to free me."

Lovely. The product of his broken mind wants him to cross the tundra and the border to find a natural philosopher who will think Sataro is insane because Sataro is insane. 

A natural philosopher would know how to recognize a small god when he sees one.

Tholassi sighs, reaches out, hopes that this power is one that still exists when you're small, and touches Sataro's mind. 

It feels like the sun's harsh rays over the glaciers on a summer's day. It feels like being judged by an all-knowing, merciless eye, one that notices your every fault and foible, and then judged acceptable. It feels like an ice bath-- the sharpness of the cold, but also the sensation of being cleansed. It feels like being pure. 

"Oh," he whispers, and falls to his knees. 

"Let's start this again," Tholassi says, still touching Sataro's mind. "I am the Great God Tholassi, and you have been chosen as my prophet for your unmatched purity, faithfulness, and devotion."

The touch says that it is obvious that Sataro is worthy-- he is clean he is whole he is pure--

He can't remember how long it's been since he last felt pure. 

"Yes, Your radiance," still in a whisper. 

"Now," he says. "About getting to Tarev."

He nods and doesn't rise to his feet. 

He glances around at the wintertime snow and shivers.

"--Actually," he says, "first take me inside in front of a nice fire and get me some meat."

"Yes, Your radiance," he repeats, and picks up the salamander — there might be questions but he can't not — and takes him inside into the barracks and finds a fire, shares from his own meat ration. 

He curls up on Sataro's hand and eats.

The warm thrum of Sataro's belief calms him. He feels better than he has since getting trapped as a salamander.

"I see you have a salamander."

Kirasu wears the thick, heavy robes of an inquisitor. 

"I do have a salamander," he agrees. 

It is — probably better if he doesn't get tortured to death for heresy and hubris.

"As your god," Tholassi says, "I order you not to get tortured to death for any reason."