(no subject)
And I followed him, then, into the second circle of the temple of Kapporeth, understanding that he was like me; mortal, and marked all unwitting by the touch of a god. Kushiel, Adonai; does it matter in the end? We pay for sins we do not remember, and seek to do a will we can scarce fathom. That is what it is, to be a god’s chosen.
In the second circle there were treasures, more treasures heaped upon the earthen floor; vessels of gold and silver, tribute dating back to Shalomon’s day. And beyond... Elua! The Holiest of Holies, Hanoch ben Hadad had called it. I stared at the opening of the inner sanctum, veiled with curtains of scarlet and purple and blue and shivered.
It was there, I thought, the Ark of Broken Tablets.
The Name of God
Preserved in silence all these long years, a millennium and more, shrouded by a goddess’ grief. Who was I to breach it?
I meant to follow, to walk behind the priest and approach my fate with the hope of another’s salvation in my heart, but a sound behind me caught my attention and gave me pause. In a place as holy as this, I expected no animals, no sounds form the outside to breach the sanctity of the temple; and yet as clear as the room in front of me, I heard the unmistakable piercing cry of a hawk. I turned, trying to reason out the sound and its sudden arrival. But all reason abandoned me at the sight I beheld, the impossible sight of a forest and trees were had been only walls and decorations. The bare stone of the ground gave way to plants and dirt and flowers and even as I looked in wonder I could feel the shift around me, the scent of warm earth in my nose and the sound of the woods round me.
“My lord priest?” I could scarce keep the fear from my voice as I turned, intending to beg him to pause, to wait while I tried to understand the vision in my eyes, but he was gone. Everything was gone and I was alone in my waking dream, with the sounds, sights and smells of nature around me. Hands balling into fists, I could feel my nails dig into my blistered palms and welcomed the clarity of pain. This was real. It was no illusion or vision in a dream and the rational part of my mind tried to give it cause and catalogue the sights around me. There were walls, as if this were a d’Angeline garden in which I stood, with benches and altars for those in need of their god’s wisdom; all of this I took in while my heart filled with panic. I had gotten so close, the Word I had sought for so long had been within my grasp for good or for ill and yet here I was. What god had I offended so that this was my new fate? And what of Joscelin and Imriel? When I failed to exit the temple, what would become of them?
Turning again, I could feel the blood rush from my face as my knees gave way and I tumbled to the ground. Pain flared again as the flora beneath me crushed against my wounded hands and I drew a shuddering breath into my lungs, forcing myself to focus and look up again. There, at the far end was a sight both damning and blessing, a marble stature of my god Elua, blessing the garden with his presence. But how? How did I come to be here and why?
There was nothing left but to ask, to plead and hope that my god could answer. From habit, I pulled the boots from my feet so as not to offend and I crawled to the altar. On my knees and without offering I looked up at the stone face, trying to keep the betrayal I felt from my voice. “Elua, please, what’s happening to me? Why have I been diverted again from my goals, when I am so close?” I barely noticed the tears that ran down my cheeks. In Kushiel’s temple, I questioned his plans for me and doubted my ability to carry his will. Now in Elua’s, I did the same. “How long will my friend pay for my freedom and how much more do I have to pay to gain his?”
There was only silence, Elua did not answer me. I was alone.
[ooc: Phédre's debut. Alcuin gets to explain, everyone else can run into her afterwards. She is in the Temple of Elua on the island, wearing her traveling clothes (they're a little worn, but still presentable at this point) and she will have bandages on her hands. If you talk to her in English, she'll respond in the same, albeit with a French accent. Her marque isn't visible, it's covered by her clothing, but there is a scarlet mote in her left eye that is obvious if you're close enough. If there are any questions, feel free to PM me. (Italics are quotes from Kushiel's Avatar.) No thread limit and open to new threads until I say otherwise.]
In the second circle there were treasures, more treasures heaped upon the earthen floor; vessels of gold and silver, tribute dating back to Shalomon’s day. And beyond... Elua! The Holiest of Holies, Hanoch ben Hadad had called it. I stared at the opening of the inner sanctum, veiled with curtains of scarlet and purple and blue and shivered.
It was there, I thought, the Ark of Broken Tablets.
The Name of God
Preserved in silence all these long years, a millennium and more, shrouded by a goddess’ grief. Who was I to breach it?
I meant to follow, to walk behind the priest and approach my fate with the hope of another’s salvation in my heart, but a sound behind me caught my attention and gave me pause. In a place as holy as this, I expected no animals, no sounds form the outside to breach the sanctity of the temple; and yet as clear as the room in front of me, I heard the unmistakable piercing cry of a hawk. I turned, trying to reason out the sound and its sudden arrival. But all reason abandoned me at the sight I beheld, the impossible sight of a forest and trees were had been only walls and decorations. The bare stone of the ground gave way to plants and dirt and flowers and even as I looked in wonder I could feel the shift around me, the scent of warm earth in my nose and the sound of the woods round me.
“My lord priest?” I could scarce keep the fear from my voice as I turned, intending to beg him to pause, to wait while I tried to understand the vision in my eyes, but he was gone. Everything was gone and I was alone in my waking dream, with the sounds, sights and smells of nature around me. Hands balling into fists, I could feel my nails dig into my blistered palms and welcomed the clarity of pain. This was real. It was no illusion or vision in a dream and the rational part of my mind tried to give it cause and catalogue the sights around me. There were walls, as if this were a d’Angeline garden in which I stood, with benches and altars for those in need of their god’s wisdom; all of this I took in while my heart filled with panic. I had gotten so close, the Word I had sought for so long had been within my grasp for good or for ill and yet here I was. What god had I offended so that this was my new fate? And what of Joscelin and Imriel? When I failed to exit the temple, what would become of them?
Turning again, I could feel the blood rush from my face as my knees gave way and I tumbled to the ground. Pain flared again as the flora beneath me crushed against my wounded hands and I drew a shuddering breath into my lungs, forcing myself to focus and look up again. There, at the far end was a sight both damning and blessing, a marble stature of my god Elua, blessing the garden with his presence. But how? How did I come to be here and why?
There was nothing left but to ask, to plead and hope that my god could answer. From habit, I pulled the boots from my feet so as not to offend and I crawled to the altar. On my knees and without offering I looked up at the stone face, trying to keep the betrayal I felt from my voice. “Elua, please, what’s happening to me? Why have I been diverted again from my goals, when I am so close?” I barely noticed the tears that ran down my cheeks. In Kushiel’s temple, I questioned his plans for me and doubted my ability to carry his will. Now in Elua’s, I did the same. “How long will my friend pay for my freedom and how much more do I have to pay to gain his?”
There was only silence, Elua did not answer me. I was alone.
[ooc: Phédre's debut. Alcuin gets to explain, everyone else can run into her afterwards. She is in the Temple of Elua on the island, wearing her traveling clothes (they're a little worn, but still presentable at this point) and she will have bandages on her hands. If you talk to her in English, she'll respond in the same, albeit with a French accent. Her marque isn't visible, it's covered by her clothing, but there is a scarlet mote in her left eye that is obvious if you're close enough. If there are any questions, feel free to PM me. (Italics are quotes from Kushiel's Avatar.) No thread limit and open to new threads until I say otherwise.]