[ He watches her with his one visible eye, a slight tinge of curiosity touching the curve of his brows. Gods as blights... curious. Somehow, he feels that it's a strange concept, but what backing it could have is now something lost to time. ]

Think a different name? Gods here are not really the same as others... more like spirits. A name as a job, a category.

[ Ain waves his hand a little, as if to gesture at the myriads of names that could arise; but his cloak sleeve falls a little away from his hand, revealing that the black colour of his fingers is not a glove but actual skin, and that... three inches beyond his wrist is nothing at all.

Empty space. He's not bothered by it, though. ]