Weren’t gods supposed to be compassionate?
Okappa waited anxiously as the two wove their way through the roiling mass. Her attention fell on Hanshiro dutifully hypnotizing the people and collecting their worthless trinkets in his upturned hat. She caught a hint of a smile on his face. A smirk. It almost looked like he was appraising each item as it tumbled in. So that’s what this was really about.
Anger seethed in Okappa’s chest. This man could not alleviate anyone’s torment. He was a charlatan. It made her ache to witness what little effort it took to convince the utterly hopeless that their suffering wasn’t in vain, that they were due their just reward. Happiness would be theirs again, but at a cost. These paltry tokens couldn’t be enough. What else did the stranger want? Lift, move, h
