[FE 10] Our Thoughts Rise to Heaven
Written today and barely edited because I have no time.
Challenge: 16 - Disillusionment
Title: Our Thoughts Rise to Heaven
Word Count: 365
Game: Radiant Dawn
Warnings: spoilers through endgame, certain liberties with Tellian religion
Laura settled each candle into its holder with care, cradling them carefully so that the long, rough tapers wouldn’t snap. The movement was practically on the level of instinct by now, the most natural thing in the world, setting out candles for the souls of the dead.
The abbot taught that even the tiniest flame was a piece of Ashera’s light, her blessing, and that each bright candle was a prayer. She could hear his soft, dry voice, still weak from his long illness, saying, our thoughts rise to heaven with the smoke, carried on its sooty back to Ashera’s ears. Can you hear the whispers, my child? and his shy smile in the candlelight seemed all the sweeter.
So many dead, not just in Daein, but all across the continent, they didn’t have enough candles for even half of them. Still, she continued to fill the great candelabras on the altar. The intent of the ritual mattered more than the scope of it.
How many dead? How many turned to stone and yet to recover? Laura had no way of knowing, of course. Did the curse reach as far as Hatari? She still wondered over her own lack of wonder, that she had never even considered the possibility of life beyond the desert of death.
Nailah mentioned once that the Hatari lit incense, not candles, so that the smell would be sweet in the Goddess’ nostrils. She thought she preferred these candles; the homely wax, the comforting weight of them.
The last candle was uneven, the mould clearly split in the making of it, and she had to twist carefully to make it fit. How could all the teachings of Ashera be lies? I didn’t create anything, Yune had said, innocent and childlike and not at all a creature of darkness. And she and Ashera were two and one at once. If they did not make the world, who did?
Fire sparked on the first wick, bringing her up short. All this ceremony, all this form, and for what? The flame on the taper in her hand was golden, but Ashera’s was only blue and cold and distant. Who heard their prayers?
Challenge: 16 - Disillusionment
Title: Our Thoughts Rise to Heaven
Word Count: 365
Game: Radiant Dawn
Warnings: spoilers through endgame, certain liberties with Tellian religion
Laura settled each candle into its holder with care, cradling them carefully so that the long, rough tapers wouldn’t snap. The movement was practically on the level of instinct by now, the most natural thing in the world, setting out candles for the souls of the dead.
The abbot taught that even the tiniest flame was a piece of Ashera’s light, her blessing, and that each bright candle was a prayer. She could hear his soft, dry voice, still weak from his long illness, saying, our thoughts rise to heaven with the smoke, carried on its sooty back to Ashera’s ears. Can you hear the whispers, my child? and his shy smile in the candlelight seemed all the sweeter.
So many dead, not just in Daein, but all across the continent, they didn’t have enough candles for even half of them. Still, she continued to fill the great candelabras on the altar. The intent of the ritual mattered more than the scope of it.
How many dead? How many turned to stone and yet to recover? Laura had no way of knowing, of course. Did the curse reach as far as Hatari? She still wondered over her own lack of wonder, that she had never even considered the possibility of life beyond the desert of death.
Nailah mentioned once that the Hatari lit incense, not candles, so that the smell would be sweet in the Goddess’ nostrils. She thought she preferred these candles; the homely wax, the comforting weight of them.
The last candle was uneven, the mould clearly split in the making of it, and she had to twist carefully to make it fit. How could all the teachings of Ashera be lies? I didn’t create anything, Yune had said, innocent and childlike and not at all a creature of darkness. And she and Ashera were two and one at once. If they did not make the world, who did?
Fire sparked on the first wick, bringing her up short. All this ceremony, all this form, and for what? The flame on the taper in her hand was golden, but Ashera’s was only blue and cold and distant. Who heard their prayers?