Disclaimer: This is wholly original work.
Summary: Sannal-in is want of a bucket and purpose.
Notes: A 15minuteficlet.
Sannal-in chuckled as he looked out over the rotting grotto that had fallen into such disrepair that not even Daria spoke of trying to fix it up. He didn't think that the goddess had stopped caring, only that she had stopped speaking about the little abandoned area of her home because there wasn't any sort of place to even begin an effort to fix it.
But he was free for the day and good with his hands. As he dropped to his knees to start clearing the moss that grew thick over the once-colorful stone, Sannal-in couldn't help finally wondering if he had a purpose past what he'd wanted to achieve.
He had left his family to find immortality so that he could change the power balance within his hometown but that had been accomplished even before he'd returned. His sacrifice had been in vain.
After decades of wandering and living on the land, he'd decided to die. Dying without purpose, he'd thought, was much like living without it, just a tool for pain and pleasure, a creature sought as carnal when really he was just biding time.
But Daria had not let him die, a punishment he had once felt unnaturally cruel. He'd never enjoyed his immortality, something she had felt a sin against her brother the Lifegod. So until he enjoyed it... Revelled in it... Found purpose...
He'd need a bucket or something to carry the moss back to the forest beyond the temple gates. And to gather the black leaves decaying in the bottom of stagnant pools. Those would be easy to prime again, making fountains more beautiful than even those of Palace.
This little task wouldn't be his purpose. But it would be a beginning to something. He could not abandon a fate he had not even tried to discover, after all.
As he got to his feet, he thought he saw the goddess herself lingering in the shadows beyond the far side of the grotto. But a second later there were only shadows and Sannal-in was not sure. It didn't matter. He wasn't doing it for her. He wasn't even necessarily doing it for himself. He was just doing it, biding his time again.
A bucket was just as useful as true purpose anyway. Perhaps even more so.
Drink Lemonade! Tip Your Waitress!