|
|
Post by Raven on Nov 8, 2022 0:16:15 GMT -5
Church of New Haven Ranks: The Whisperer – Orien Cade • The Ordained – Sevek Keen • Archpriestess – Melodie Vivante • Holy Council – A High Priestess from each church that lives in Haven, can be traded with other High Priests of the Temple/Church. • 1-2 High Priest/ess per Church Location depending on size • Priest/ess 3-10 per church depending on size • Acolytes – No more than 3 at any locations
Priestess Adnala “Nala” Vendove The Grand Temple of the Divine New Haven was located in one of the most ancient cities of the lands. Considered the original holy place in which Tyr himself descended and landed in the War of Ancients, a Thousand years passed. The place became a beacon of his lingering strength. It was said upon his landing that a thousand cracks of glowing white flame flickered the point of impact. It circled outward in the most beautifully designed sigils, of nearly 50 feet. This land would become the center of the greatest Temple eyes would see. It was of the most intricate design and took over 82 years to finish building. It became the singularly largest building to exist, roughly the size of a city on it’s own. The Temple City Haven. Within this giant city was the entire Clergy School, where children at very young ages would be offered to New Haven. They would move to the city and begin their education at a young 10 years of age. They would become Priests, and Priestess to play their part in the society of the Holy. Most went off and joined a Temple, until eventually climbing the ranks if at all. Haven itself though was the epicenter of the Holy society. Those who made up the Holy Council lived within the city. They would attend the gatherings, putting together the newest and improved beliefs, practices and other needs. The politics lived here, thick like smog in the air, but free of all pollutions ever still. The city focused in on the very center, where Tyr landed himself. A set of long decorated stairs led to a middle platform, directly under the peak of the dome above. Above was carved stone – but in the very center was a perfectly round clear glass. Believed to allow the light of the gods to enter the Altar even in the darkest of hours. A woman stood atop the large platform – she held a large carved bowl above her head. She was a slender woman with a motherly figure, a waist and bosom to support the life of the Earth itself. She wore an even more slender and decorate robes. It crossed over her chest in perfectly crafted tendrils of white and gold silk, crossing about her abdomen before falling into three ivory banners upon the points of her hip. She wore nothing else, her feet bare to the cold stone ground, as she stood in such a vulnerable state. Yet she held her bones with confidence, every step and motion was calculated. Her smooth caramel skin reflected the pure moon light like a soft mirror, out to toward the mass of people who gathered about the tall stage. The wind picked up and drew across the crowd. The stood under the dome that covered the city, though open to the air of the sweet mountain scape they were nestled within. The scent of fresh mountain water cut through the city as a river snaked about. Several bridges were built to cross the slender river, as the structures were built higher than the ground of the river in the first place. Rather it was integrated like the Eastern water Canals of Purdane. “The Gods grace us on this glorious Rise of Liviana” she lowered the bowl to reveal her perfectly structured face. She had powerful cheekbones and even stronger jaw. Her eyes beamed of her magic, surprisingly radiant and bright. Her hair fell in tassels about her of a blazing red, many coined her the Crimson Priestess, her stunning nature drew many to tend to the ritual. “The White Moon is our Boon of the Gods. On this day we rise from the darkness within and embrace her Strength, and find our resolve to all that draws us further from grace” the bowl was that of a glowing milky substance. It had a slight magical fog which emit from its shimmering surface. “So we ask the Blessing of the Ancients. Hear our call, hear our plea – be with us, as we are with you” she looked down to the bowl. Reacting to her words – the liquid began to glow brightly. It emit a beautiful glow onto the curves of her cheeks, and she smiled to the glowing bowl. The crowd gasped in response, man shifting forward as if to get a better look. “The God’s have blessed us today. They hear our call, they hear us – my people. This is the age of Light” she held the bowl upward and the crowd burst into a cheer. Clapping and whistling howled in the mountains like a strange concert under the dome. “So we will begin. Each under the name of New Haven shall drink her blessings. You will be gifted with their Love” she reached over to a lifted podium and plucked a golden glittering Chalice. She dipped the chalice into the bright white liquid. The crystals within the glass lit up with all sort of colors, that of every kind. It glittered with its magic and she nodded. “Please, form your place and take your turn to be gifted” she nodded. With that the crowd began to stumble into a line of some sort. Though it ended many people thick – one Priest stood at the top and waved the next person up the final 5 steps to the Priestess atop the many steps. The flaming haired woman would lean forward and hold the chalice for the Follower, with a slight tilt they would take the smallest of sips. A wave of pleasure would creep over their flesh, a sort of refreshing energy to the mind. “Be Blessed” she would whisper to each person. This act took an entire 3 hours to complete every citizen of Haven. Meanwhile all throughout the city celebrations began. The Grand Temple largest doors were opened, where food and offerings where displayed on long decorated tables. Many took their food and feasted within the streets. Music played, and the people would mingle. Finally when the final person had their sip – the bowl was nearly empty now. The woman stepped from the top, descending the stairs gently. An older woman approached her, adorned in beautiful thick white robes. The Archpriestess Melodie Vivante. She smiled and reached her gloved hands to the red haired beauty. “Nala, perfectly done my dear.” She had slightly wrinkled lips from her growing age. Her hair was that of a dark brown, with many variations of gray that speckled its way into her perfectly tended tendrils. “Many will continue to come for the remaining week to be blessed, before the moon fades, hm? But tonight you rest and celebrate now… I shall see you in the morning” she glasped Nala’s hand and gave it a loving pat. Nala let out a deep breath, a near sigh to a degree. She pressed her lips into a line and slipped past a few people. Her bare feet padded on the smooth stone streets of the town, as she finally came to her destination. “High Priestess Renaldi” she interrupted a conversation between this woman, and another. The High Priestess turned her gaze to the Priestess and gave a warm smile. Renaldi wore white robes adorned with decorated metal armor, in the modest of fashions. Renaldi smiled and bowed her head slowly. “It is one thing to perform your first ritual, another to invent one entirely… You are quite a lucky girl, Priestess.” Her voice was smooth and deep, like that of her structure. She was a tall woman with broad shoulders, that once of a Paladin, though since retired as a High Priestess. She clung to her roots despite the change in life. She was one of 8 High Priestess of New Haven. As expected – she was primarily over the Holy Cloaks, Militia of the Church. “Just a theatric wave to sway the masses, quite a display” she smirked “You best be careful, more ideas like this and there may be a 9th High Priestess among the Coven” she lifted a brow and turned towards a servant passing by along the street. Renaldi lifted a wine glass over to Nala and lifted it upward to the woman. “Congratulations are in order, to the beautiful White Moon and her voice” she lifted the wine and took a long sip. Nala brought the glass to her lips and took a gentle sip, she nodded and smiled with bright cheeks and eyes. It was clear that she admired this Renaldi, in a fashion that she wished she could follow in her steps. Though the Clergy held her back, as her gifts lead her down a different path. The studies had shifted in the past year, she dug deeply into the roots of her spirits. The Archpriest spoke of the Day of Dawn, when the Earth was closest to the great Sun and all of its light. The day that she would convene to the Gods in the Ritual of Light. A ritual that had not been done in hundreds of years, as those gifted with the Light dwindled, and even less with the strength…
|
|
|
|
Post by Seaslug on Nov 8, 2022 22:53:16 GMT -5
Santiago "Lobo" Matanza
Ximena "Mariposa" Matanza
It was once said that the Changelings were descendants of a great Tiefling mage who sought to protect herself from academic persecution. In order to secure her safety and legacy, she bred with whom she thought to be the Demigod of Transformation, atop a great spire unearthed from the consequences of her actions. Only when she opened her legs to gaze upon his face did she realize it was none other than Ymir, Demigod of Trickery, a shapeshifter who sought to spread his seed.
When he entered her, he said, “Change if you must, but forget not of me. When this worlds forgets, the children will make them remember.” Or something like that. The language of the Immortals, forgotten and butchered save a few Magician-Scholars and Paladins who made it their life’s mission to study it. And so, with great regret in her heart, the Tiefling mage gave birth to the Divine 8…or 9…the true number lost to the unfortunate fragility of memory.
While shapeshifting is not impossible to learn if not a Changeling, it requires years of intense magical and cultural study. Sure, one could change their appearance and race and voice, but could they actually assimilate into a vastly different society? Ymir’s unique ability to transform himself was utterly godlike — only a single thought was needed to change his appearance entirely, and so this was the gift bestowed upon their humanoid children. From their mother, proficient sorceress she was, passed along mental prowess and illusion magic. For Changelings, it wasn’t just about shapeshifting, it was about reality-altering.
Santiago Matanza could practically hear the tale in his head, spun together from different voices, those who spoke of Changelings with immense fear and those with sheer disgust. It amused him greatly, and the devilish artisan couldn’t help but flash a toothy smile while eavesdropping on the conversation behind him.
“Ay! It’s said they can take your memories as their own with a single look,” a gruff voice was saying between swigs of ale. “My Pa’s Pa saw it for ‘imself!”
“Well if I ever saw that slaughterwolf in person, I’d skin it! Put the fur right on my mantle.” Another voice chimed in.
Do they actually think I can turn into a wolf? Santiago thought to himself, bringing his own ale to upturned lips. Quite impressive, he made a mental note to write that one down later — he was keeping a running list of impressive rumors. Between this and being part dragon, Santiago wasn’t sure which impressed him more — he found himself wanting to turn around and ask the gentlemen behind him. He knew Ximena wouldn’t approve; she was constantly annoyed by his charisma (was it because she was as warm as a slab of marble? Santiago was working on a theory). Hell, if Ximena were here, the men would be frothing at the mouth from poison and they’d be ten miles gone towards the coast.
Wincing at the thought, Santiago finished his pint and stood, leaving more than enough gold coins on the wooden table. “Do you think he can fly?” Santiago asked sheepishly, leaning an awkward, lanky body towards the table. “I heard he could fly,” brown eyes gazed at their confused faces as they took him in. If they were paying attention, they’d know he walked into the tavern raven-haired with blue eyes. Santiago now looked upon them brunette with chestnut eyes to match.
“Of course he can! He can transform into any animal!” It seems they were not paying attention, and Santiago fought back a grin as he feigned fear. “Be safe, lad. They say those that know the secrets are marked by them!”
Santiago raised a hand to his heart as he left the tavern, clutching onto drunken wisdom he couldn’t wait to share with Ximena.
“It doesn’t matter who we are, Lobo. That’s the beauty of what we are,” he imagined her saying in that oddly-sage way of hers. Classic Ximena — shaking his world even when she wasn’t in it.
Commotion pulled him from more somber thoughts, and he turned his attention to the jovial crowd around him. Festivities were underway — balloons and ribbons decorated the holy city of New Haven, a religious mecca for scholars of the divine. Sigils depicting the sun and moon were etched throughout the decor. This was clearly a celestial celebration.
“Come forth in the light, sir,”
“The Age of Light is upon us!”
“I feel the Goddess’ blessings on me tenfold!”
Santiago couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he weaved through the main square. He wouldn’t even be here if not for his sister. Religious festivities definitely wasn’t his thing — the way the church spoke of things they didn’t understand…it was only in the presence of the clergy did the older Matanza understand his sister’s annoyance with curiosity — it was rarely genuine. The skin Santiago wore began to feel hot and itchy, he scratched at himself as he fell deeper into the temple.
Of all places, Mena… Santiago thought to himself as he perched the lanky body against a pillar, watching the citizens of New Haven return from what he assumed was some sort of ritual or offering. The nomadic twin had only been in town a couple days, having caught The Red Eye from two towns over where he had been blissfully held up for about a year. He had been enjoying his life as a blacksmith at a local forge, even found himself falling in love with a tiny thing whose braids were longer than she.
Then the letter arrived, and Santiago knew all of what would be asked of him before the other could utter it from his lips. He was just getting used to that skin and here he was, slipping into others without a moment’s contemplation. Fuck.
The sun continued to beat down on him as the festivities carried on, chestnut eyes scanning the crowd of newly “blessed” citizens. The crowd began to wane as folks returned to shops and bars and street vendors, while the temple’s clergy lingered behind with who Santiago assumed to be the city’s nobility. Certainly not his taste, but he found himself broadening his chest anyway, attempting to peacock despite his obvious lack of belonging. He very smoothly stopped a server, plucking a glass of wine from their tray before snaking his way away from the grand entrance and further into the celebration.
From the corner of his eye, a flame darted across the room. She looked as if she were draped in starlight, her garments draped around her body as if it were part of her skin. Santiago caught himself from licking his lips, instead opting to raise in his hand to eye-level and then to his lips as her gaze lingered on him for a brief moment. Despite not knowing much about New Haven, Santiago could tell the crimson-haired woman was of much importance.
Ah…the Crimson Priestess, the tavern rumors came swirling back to the older twin as he watched her navigate the clergy fawning over her. She exuded a humility Santiago found fascinating, with each bow and soft smile offered. So innocent… he hummed, finishing the goblet of wine with a final sip.
“Pardon, sir? Would you be able to verify a few details?” The unsure voice of an Enforcer nearly startled him, if not for the familiar scent lingering behind him. Santiago didn’t have to turn to know the man from the bar was somewhere near, the scent of his cowardice almost too much for his sensitive nostrils to bear.
“I s-saw you. You changed!” The more quiet of the gentleman stood behind the Enforcer, finger aimed at Santiago. “Y-you’re the Slaughterwolf.”
There she goes, always fucking costing me everything, Santiago grimaced as he pulled the goblet down from his lips. People weren’t starting to notice…yet — good. Santiago approached the pair dramatically, unease painted on his face. “Change? Please, I have only come ro be blessed by the Crimson Priestess—”
“No! I swear I saw you change!” The man insisted to the Enforcer, voice much bolder than before.
“I have only come to pray for my sister’s safe passage home…” This skin’s voice surprised Santiago, the desperation in his voice. For a moment, he wondered if Ximena was actually in danger, if she truly needed a prayer. No — she was his twin; he’d be able to feel it, right? Even if had been years and he didn’t know what she looked like anymore?
“There— you see! It’s eyes just flashed!” The man yelped, pointing at Santiago as he drew closer.
Fuck, Lobo chastised himself for Ximena’s sake. All it took was an inkling of curiosity for his entire cover to have almost been blown — goddamn he was rusty. In a brief panic, Santiago dropped to his knees, hiding his face in his hands as he attempted to regain focus. “Please have mercy…I seek not to offend, but to gain the Goddess’ favor,” the skin’s desperation for divinity flowed from Santiago’s tongue effortlessly. The religion tasted vile in the back of his throat but that couldn’t matter.
He had to sell it.
|
|
|
|
Post by Raven on Nov 9, 2022 0:30:27 GMT -5
Nala had held the rim of her glass to her lips as she tried to muster the next words in her mind. What would she say to the High Priestess. Yet ever admired – a deep sting pierced her chest from the crafted words of the forsaken Paladin. She sucked in a breath and her ear caught a commotion near. She turned slightly and set her full glass onto a stone railing, square and perfectly chiseled. She stepped forward, though she paused as two people rushed by in a fit of giggles. She looked both ways before approaching the Enforcer, and the man groveling on the ground.
She cleared her throat and peered to the Enforcer, who bowed his head to her. “Priestess Adnala” he shuffled to a proper stance.
“Let us not harass the needy” She knelt down, a single bare knee placed upon the smooth ground. She placed a warm hand upon the groveling man and tilted her head. “It is your grief of your sister which ails you?” she questioned with a soft tone. “Come, let us pray for her in the temple, hm?” she slipped a finger under his arm and aided him upward.
“Priestess, I am to question him of his –“
“Worry not, he is in the hands of the Gods now. It is too grand of a day to worry over the coming and goings of words. Please, allow me to ease his suffering…” Nala peered to the two with her calming forest eyes.
“B-but he changed. He is the Slaughterwolf!” the man behind the Enforcer stammered, face perplexed by his innately lost battle.
“Slaughterwolf you say? Mere stories told in the taverns… Perhaps you are in need of more service. Come tomorrow, there is much to learn of the telling’s of the White Moon, hm?” Nala reached forward and grasped his hand. There was a slight glow to her eyes and a wave of warmth crept over the man. It calmed him from his state and offered him resolve. “Blessings be with you” she bowed her head.
Nala turned to the man she rescued from the ground. She reached forward to his arm and locked hers within his, her steps leading him forward to the main street which cut through the entire city. It was one large street from the gates of the Temple, to the exit of New Haven – right to the Train Station itself. The rest of the streets were smaller blocks nestled about. It was a perfect grid of precision, as nothing less would be expected from the holy order.
The buildings themselves were that of smooth stone, varying in height and size, though all resembling the same smooth design. Rounded corners and square features, consistent architecture of the Gods. The concept was stolen from the depictions of the Pantheon, and their own home.
“It has been many years, Sanjay” she turned her gaze to the man. “Though you look… different” she spoke softly. They climbed up a long set of stairs that came to the temple doors. They were opened inwardly, which meant the doors were open to any who chose to come. The huge stone columns were higher than she could crane her neck to see, and the stone doors within the decorated archway were nearly 50 feet tall as well. It was absurdly large, but a conceptual entrance for that of a God, should one visit.
“Back when I was an Acolyte, you visited me many times. I am.. terribly sorry to hear your Mother’s passing…” she gave his arm a gentle squeeze as they continued forward. There were two large braziers, flickering with a large blue flame within the smooth bowls. Upon entering – the ceiling was nearly sky high, arched with intricate inlay designs. There were tables set up, piled high with food. People stood in a line circling the tables to pluck their grapes and sandwiches onto a plate. She shimmied past a few people and pushed beyond the row of tables. The remaining portion of the temple remained untouched, and not many lingered beyond the barricade of food.
“We spent many nights lighting the candles in the room of Sol, praying to the Sun for his healing warmth…” she let out a broken sigh. “Sometimes, despite all the prayer, sacrifice and love – not even a God can sway the threads of fate.. hm? The sisters must respect the law of order” she walked through the line of pews and guided him to the right.
“I worry perhaps the loss of your mother may be the reason you have not returned to service?” she questioned with a lifted brow. “I cannot… fault you for your wavering faith, if that may be. Your grief is yours, and righteous” she came before a statue. It was that of a woman – with long hair that fell to her waistline. On her forehead was a crest of a moon, etched into the smooth texture of her adoring face. “We worship many deities who make up the whole, as you know. It take’s them all to maintain the balance of the world, hm? Tonight is the strongest of Selune… we pray to her in hopes she hears our plea…”
“Come come” she pat the floor. Behind them many feet away were the people still churning, the entanglement of voices were machine-static in the height of the temple. Though it felt as if they both stood in a nestled corner of the temple and the chatter was a mere buzzing over their shared space. She slowly moved to rest upon both knees, resting backward to sit upon her bare feet. Her ritualistic uniform fell to each direction, exposing her legs entirely to the statue before them.
“It is on this grand day we call to you, Goddess of the White Moon, to hear our plea. The wavering has come to wish upon your grace and guide us with a moonlit path. You pull onto us like the tides of sea, we beckon to you for a moment in time. Guide the blood of our beloved family, to their sanctuary that is home. Bath them in your moonlight and protect them from all worry, all pain and suffering, be the silver shield to aid them from the darkness in the wake of our shadow…” she lowered her head. Silence for a very long moment and she released a breath that was held.
“You never mentioned a sister… but I suppose your grief may have guided your thoughts elsewhere…” she slowly stood, her red hair tossing slightly as she adjusted it about her. “Come… will you feast with me? You can tell me of your sister, hm? I could pray for her even more so. You must love her dearly to venture here for her” her soft lips curved into a gentle smile, finally. “I am curious as to what venture she faces that you might fear her safety?” she slowly stepped over towards the banquet table and easily nudged in line. She skipped many of people – though none showed remorse in her action. They kindly offered it, and so she pulled Sanjey with her.
|
|
|
|
Post by Seaslug on Nov 12, 2022 14:25:46 GMT -5
“But how would you describe it? I can’t tell if it I like it or not…”
“Don’t be stupid, Santi,” Ximena responded without a beat, shoving a bony ankle against the side of her brother’s ear. They were head-to-toe on a boating dock, sunset kissing the tops of the sails. “Why wouldn’t you like it?” She pressed on, sitting up to look down at him.
Santiago truly pondered the question, choosing his words carefully as not to trigger his sister’s wrath. It was becoming easier and easier these days. “I dunno…it can be confusing,” he admitted, turning his head to the side. Random debris and seaweed created ugly swirls in the brackish water. “Sometimes I can’t tell which memories are mine or someone else’s.” It was true. At only 12 years old, Santiago could feel himself…forgetting things. Or that when he finally remembered something, the pieces didn’t fit quite right.
Their father, who wasn’t a Changeling, couldn’t even begin to understand. And with their mother…wherever she was…all he had was Ximena and her temper to contemplate with. Had his sister ever been nice to him before they realized they could change? This was one of the things Santiago couldn’t remember.
“Get up,” Her voice became sharp as she stood on the wooden platform. “Fucking now, Santiago,” The curse both felt and sounded awkward coming from Ximena’s tiny mouth. Sometimes it felt like she was growing up quicker than he, despite Santiago being born a full three minutes before. It scared them both, either if neither would admit it.
The other twin stood, blonde stringy hair framing his flushed cheeks. Most times, it freaked Ximena out to stare into his icy blue eyes, one of the few things physically that set them apart. Santiago always got complimented on how full of life his eyes looked — no one had ever said that to Ximena.
“Look,” she softened her voice as Santiago fixed eyes on hers. “Sometimes…it’s better to forget, to just pretend that things are different. The only thing you can’t ever forget is me.” For a second the words caught in the back of her throat, but she urged herself forward and through, just as she always did. Santiago’s eyes dipped low and she reached out to him with her pinky. “As true to you,” she said with conviction.
Santiago remained unconvinced. He slowly brought eyes back up to Ximena. She was staring at him, unblinking with a strange expression twisted on her lips. For a moment it occurred to him that it could have been one of sadness — but that was quickly tossed aside as Ximena repeated the words, frowning her brows at him. “As you to me.” Santiago finished, locking his own pinky against Ximena’s, relaxing as she gave him a squeeze of satisfaction.
-
The hands around his shoulders radiated with a warmth the disguised Slaughterwolf hadn’t felt from another in some time. It almost was if he were standing in his forge, the heat of the coals grasping at his arms and neck and face relentlessly. Santiago allowed himself to be guided by this Crimson Priestess, casting a devilish glare towards the Enforcer and his coward snitch who dare not continue protest in the presence of the clergy. Santiago felt his pulse slow as the priestess’ naivety extended him a way out of the situation.
He listened to her prattle on in the way people of the church typically did, fighting back his tongue to question the faith she so proudly spewed, knowing her faith did nothing for this man in his time of grief. “The years have done a number on me, Priestess Adnala,” Santiago managed, gripping tighter onto Adnala’s arm as if to feign desperation. “Even mountains must weather storms.” A memory flashed through his mind of whom he assumed to be a younger Adnala, though her face was obscured in a silver fog. He heard this Sanjay repeat those words to the younger woman as he held prayer at her feet. I see why he has continued to seek her counsel, the older Matanza thought to himself as he listened to her speak.
There was a gentleness in the way Priestess Adnala carried herself — Santiago could perceive easily just how revered she was in the city of New Haven. She seemed almost…‘famous’, quite the interesting position for someone of the Holy Order to take. He raised his brows as the priestess made space for him to kneel next to her, reluctantly he positioned himself in front of the statued deity. “Forgive me, Priestess. It has been a while since I have taken prayer — my travels have kept my thoughts from the Gods I’m afraid,” So he’s a man of honesty, Santiago smirked behind his own skin, impressed with even himself at the life he was able to conjure for himself on such short notice.
It was quite the funny thing — being known for shapeshifting but not necesarily liking it. Ever since he could remember, something about the whole process turned him off; but he did it out of necessity, out of survival and of course, out of desperation as not to incur Ximena’s wrath. He couldn’t even begin to think about all the things Ximena would say once she found out how he had been living the past couple of years — as one person, unchanging, with an actual job and responsibilities. Santiago allowed himself a brief moment of imagining, so long as he didn’t have to hear what he considered empty prayers. He held his breath as the priestess continued to recite her divine words, humming every other word to communicate Sanjay’s appreciation.
They rose together after sharing a moment of silence, Santiago bowed his head with respect just as he’d seen others do. “Yes, my sister…” he silently cursed himself for the foolish mistake of merging memories with Sanjay. It reminded him yet again of how strained his relationship was with his abilities. It made him wonder how Ximena had been faring along this entire time. Santiago shuffled in line behind Adnala, plucking fruits and breads from various platters laid throughout the banquet table.
“I received a letter from her not too long ago,” Santiago said honestly. “We have lived separately for some time now and I assume the news of our dear mother has inspired her to reach out.” Okay that part was a lie. Ximena had barely written anything on the letter she sent, at least nothing of true significance, save for a little saying that had as children.
“As true to you as you to me.”
The letter briefly spoke of a job, a contact, something about their mother. Ximena had always had her conspiracies about the mysterious woman who left them in the care of a tyrant. Even after all the years, his sister couldn’t move on.
“I am to receive so we can appraise our mother’s things. I thought it may be good for her to experience the festival,” Santiago popped a grape into his skin’s mouth as they shuffled forward in line slowly. “My sister…I worry for safety as a woman traveling alone,” It wasn’t quite a lie, but it wasn’t a full truth either. He had no doubt the younger Matanza could hold her own against any danger — it was those on the receiving end of her skilled blade he truly worried about. If his sister’s temper was anything like he remembered, it’d be a miracle for her to arrive in New Haven having not participated in any bloodshed.
Shaking his head, Santiago followed the Priestess towards a sitting area a bit isolated from others in the room. “I can’t say when she has last taken prayer — I’m more than sure of her apprehension. Alas, the are others present that are wanting and need your counsel. Worry not of my sister and I.” Santiago assured Adnala as they communed over the delicious meal. He couldn’t keep this charade up for longer — the grand clocks on the wall ticked away. He knew the Enforcer and his snitch would be close by, waiting for him. He had to stall a bit longer…
“Forgive me, Priestess Adnala, I’ve been so rude! I have not asked at all of your studies. You’ve come such a long way from the young acolyte I once saw parading around High Priestess Renaldi.” Santiago twisted the skin’s lips into a generous smile.
|
|
|
|
Post by Raven on Nov 13, 2022 20:09:15 GMT -5
Nala tilted her head as the silky words slipped from his lips Even mountains must weather storms. She gave a slight smirk and she reached forward to his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. His eyes upon her made her slightly bite the bottom of her lip and they continued forward to dine together. Her brows pulled together as she strained her head slightly, as if something were tickling the back of her neck. Oh, now you’re just weak a voice resonated in her mind and she cleared her throat. A wave of discomfort transverse across her skin, causing it to prick up with idle bumps. Just seeing him drew your barriers down, hm? Well, are you going to at least apologize? The voice itself was silky smooth, a few pitches below her own with a kind of sinister twang to it. “A letter?” Nala tuned back into the conversation, her fingers fiddling with a piece of strawberry. She brought it to her lips – the red of the berry nearly as bright as her own flushing lips. “I see” she pressed her lips together after finishing her bite. “I…wish I knew then what I knew now. I could have maybe saved her…” she let out a defeated sigh, but it could not be helped. “I will pray for your sister then, the Gods watch over her…” she reached for his hand and slipped two fingers onto his palm. She allowed a small wave of her magic radiate from her finger tips, a gentle spell to soothe him and his suffering. “I…” Nala pulled her hand away and gazed outward, unable to face his eyes. She peered to the grand temple above, where the moonlight reflected off the smooth texture of the carved spires. A waft of a breeze licked across her strong cheek bones and sunk down into her flesh. Go on “I am surprised to see you… I feared…” she shut her eyes briefly. “I shouldn’t have…” she looked back to him, a mild coating of tears gathered about the lids of her eyes. “I am sorry.” She bowed her head and then stood from him. “Sanjay… I am glad to see you, truthfully. I will pray for your sister, and you” she bowed her head deeply and then stepped away from him. Coward Nala paused and squeezed her eyes tightly. She saw glimpses then of a memory that felt not her own. Flashes of an image, that was forced over her mind. She gripped her forehead as a wracking headache filled her mind and she stumbled forward towards the temple. Her naked steps padded on the stone floor as she clattered into the huge temple, pushing past people. She pulled the first door she found, to a private praying chamber. Wrong door Nala sucked in a breath as her heart pounded within her chest. She saw herself then sitting on Sanjay, her head lulled backwards upon the ground of the room. She straddled this image of a man and released herself upon him. “No-“ she cried out and thrashed forward. The image of herself lulled her head back and dark red eyes peered to her current day self, they locked eyes for a long moment and a cackling echoed in her mind. A suppressed memory rolled over her and she turned from the image her own mind played before her. It had started with a kiss Sanjay placed upon her cheek, when she was just 18 years young. A fire sparked within her, and she felt her barriers succumb. Feels good to be back… a deep chuckle emerged. Nala swung open the door and rushed down the side of the temple chamber, people glanced over briefly but then continued to their discussions. She flung open a door and hurried up a set of stone stairs until she came to the second floor. She hurried to a particular room which opened into a perfectly round room. In the center was a two inch pool of perfectly blue water, and standing before it was a statue. The statue was of two parts – both male and female. Half the square jaw of a man, but long hair that tread downwards to a perfect womanly bosom, a muscular body and manhood carved so perfectly before powerful legs. The manside looked upward to the sky, which the room’s height seem to go eternally. The female side of the face peered downward to the waters, a hand reaching downward to it. “Colros, please” she huffed in breaths as she fell to her knees. “Please, hear my words. I beg of you, please. Give me the strength” she clasped her hands before her chest and brimming tears fell over her cheeks. “Adnala” a croaking voice spoke. Nala turned swiftly, she peered forward with one single blue eye, and the other bright red. “She is coming again… I can’t” she cried. “You can, and you will” A silver haired man in thick robes slowly stepped forward. It was the Ordained, second most powerful of the clergy, who had emerged from his office from her frantic steps. “Come child” he waved a hand forward to her. Nala slowly stood and followed behind him. Sevek Keen was one of the oldest in the temple. He wore elaborate robes of all white with the most perfectly stitched etchings of golden thread. He was said to be born of the white flames of a phoenix, the day he would die – he would be born again. He was so dreadfully old no one was quite sure if he was truly as immortal as the stories lead. Not many gained the presence of him, but Nala had quite frequently. To a point where many other priestesses would grow envious with the attention… “We have worked so hard on those barriers… what broke them?” his voice was deep, it was so forceful that she couldn’t find a way to lie to him. Almost as if his presence commanded the absolute truth. He peered to her, a hand about his thick silver beard. His eyes were so inset and old that she could barely see them, but she knew them to be piercing and crude. “A lapse in… perversion, my lord” she spoke awfully truthfully and she bowed her head. Oh please. You wanted me to save you the moment you started that ritual. Your precious anxiety “The temptations of life, of course” Sevek gave a slight hum and he grasped a goblet. He dipped it into a large lifted bowl by this tableside and he waved a hand over it. It swirled a gentle blue color and he set it down. “How long has it been? I thought we were making progress…” he pondered outloud. “3 months, my lord” she replied and reached for the goblet, out of sheer habit now. She downed it with ease and wiped her blue tinted lips. She felt a wave of power come over her, her eyes surged a gentle white and there was a single chuckle from below her chest. It became silence and she opened her eyes back to the Ordained. “You must repair your barriers… go to the lake and meditate…” he commanded. “Yes, my lord” she bowed her head and quickly slipped from his office. Her nerves settled with each second the potion sunk into her body. He was right – she had to act swiftly. She hurried out one of the side doors of the temple. There was a large building near – the living quarters. It was a tall more square building, with pointed peaks of marble and stone. She shifted inside the large two doors and climbed the immediate bannister to the second level. It was endless hallways of doors, which lead to rooms within. She came to her door, at the very end of the hallway and swung it open. Her room itself was simple. A single bed, a wardrobe with a mirror above. Littered about was makeup and perfumes, a brush that had layers of red hair stuck within. She shuffled to her wardrobe and swung it open. It had many thick robes and outfits hanging, but yet not many. She clasped her every day robes and shed the thin strings of clothing from her already exposed body. She pulled her white robes on over a pair of garments. It was much like the Ordained but less intricate. A simple white robe with golden etching, and a less decorated shoulder pieces, a layered cloak built into the backside. A pair of boots and she hurried off with speed, as if every inch the moon moved was a second lost to the voice within her. She hurried down a winding path that exited the long winded gardens of the temple, entering a light meadow until the beaten path came to a large lake. She came to a large oak tree near the waters and she placed a hand upon it. There was a slight wear to the bark of the tree, a smooth portion in the rough bark. Her hand placed there every time, nearly twice a day. She fell to her knees in a defeated slump and pressed her hands to the earth. A gentle fog wafted over the cool waters and seem to collect about her fingers in the matted grass. Her eyes glanced upward to the surrounding mountains, she felt the swell of the magic about this particular spot. It soothed her and yet called to her all the same. She drew in a breath and hung her head downward, her back arching in this groveling like posture. Her voice muttered the whispers of a spell, her magic swelling within as she swiftly worked on the internal barriers would barred in this persona that fought her. |
|
