Alcuin did not spend as much time at the Temple of Elua as he once had, perhaps because simply being there made him ache for the loss of Phedre and Joscelin. Though Imriel's appearance here did at least serve to make Terre d'Ange seem closer than it had in recent days.
When he neared the temple he was surprised to see a figure already there - particularly a female figure, as he might only have expected Imriel to pay homage to the statue of Elua that resided there.
But as he neared even closer... he realized that he recognized the figure. Even simply seeing her back.
"Phedre?" His voice was nearly a whisper, as he dared not hope.
In my state, I would confess that my ability to even begin to understand what was happening around me was compromised, and yet I would have to be deaf not to recognize that voice. A voice that had spent countless hours in classes with me, a voice that was a dear to me as any of those I love.
A voice that belonged to a dead man, whose final words still haunted me, made me wonder a thousand times, what if...
Turning, my face still stained with my tears I could naught but stare, the realization seeping into my bones. Alcuin. My beautiful Alcuin. Oh, Elua, upon my death I could ask for no better guide to my life after.
Tears aside, she looked just as Alcuin remembered her. From the island, not from Terre d'Ange. Which meant that, again, she was older than he. That she had lived on without him.
He had been through this before. With James. With Giles. Who had not remembered him. And the way that she was looking at him...
But he was too overwhelmed with joy to think on it for now. He ran forward, and threw his arms around her.
I was shocked almost beyond reaction, still reeling from the sight of such a missed face, but I managed a choked word, "Alcuin." Upon my life I could not have said another, even as I felt his arms around me, warm and welcoming and I surrendered to them. All thoughts of home were momentarily forgotten, lost to the simple joy of being with my friend again.
On days when his leg is bothering him more, he walks, out of some bloody minded desire to prove that he still can, to prove that it's not going to take him down. He's walking with more of a limp today, his face tight and sore and, when he finds her in the shade, it's a welcome excuse to stop.
"What is this place?" he asks, feeling raw and rude as soon as the words are out of his mouth.
I heard the words, my mind translating them as it always had back and forth from my native tongue to theirs, so familiar and yet, in this strange place, so strange; and yet it still took me a moment to respond. The bench I was sitting on was comfortable enough, and my mind, after the initial shock, was still for the moment, but I was still thrown enough to have to think before responding.
"It is a temple of Elua." Whether he would know what that meant, I couldn't guess, but my speech was plain enough for him to understand, even with my d'Angeline accent.
"I don't know who that is," he says, wandering a little closer, wishing that he could hide the limp and settling for ignoring it. "Pretty quiet here, though."
"My God, one of many from my home." A world I still could scarce believe I had left.
Watching the new arrival and noting his limp, I still felt a twinge of guilt. Blessed Elua may be new to this place, but I had faith that He still saw his children, even as far removed as Alcuin, Imriel and I were for the time and to honor him as best I could, the request needed to be made. "Would you mind, Messire, removing your shoes if you intend to stay? It's traditional to do so in Elua's temples. I'd be happy to assist if you need it?" I nodded to the leg he favored.
There are very few places made more majestic than temples of worship. This seems to be a fact that hasn't changed since my time, and although I wouldn't necessarily call it a comfort to find this the case, it's certainly not something that I would fight against, either. Any amount of familiarity helps draw upon knowledge. Any amount of familiarity helps me better understand the people I live among, their whims, hopes, and desires, and for a man whose almost sole interest is in understanding people and all that speaks to them, temples are pretty informative indeed
( ... )
My mind was in a thousand places at once, each stranger than the last with only Alcuin's assurances that I was not mad or dead, that those assurances came from the lips of one who had died in my arms was an amusement that wasn't lost on me. For the moment, however, I remained in the temple, that little piece of Terre d'Ange built on Tabula Rasa, tended by... myself, apparently, not that I remembered it. Yet another strange thing in my life.
Yet even in my unsettled state, I remained alert, my travels of late having left me unwilling to relax my guard without Joscelin by my side. The arrival of the man, with features that placed him as from Ch'in - or at least in the manner of my home - did not go unnoticed and I debated not speaking, but politeness and curiosity bade me different.
Unsure what language he spoke, I began in my native tongue, if that wasn't one he spoke, I'd keep going until I found one he did. "It is customary to remove one's shoes in a Temple of Elua."
The sounds of her tongue aren't the same as the native English speakers. Something about the words seems more compressed, lighter, less cutting. I'm struck by the beauty of it- my fascination with languages is, compared to all else, rather recent, and as such, all the more present at the forefront of my mind. Nevertheless, focusing on her words isn't going to do me a wealth of good, so I simply smile, carefully bringing my feet together as I fold my hands in front of her and offer a careful bow.
"I am sorry," I say first. It seems to be the proper thing to do, whenever I find myself being the one who's incapable of processing the words of another. The majority are those with the voice that sounds, after all, at the end of the day. "I did not understand that. Do you speak English?"
It strikes me as no less than ironic, that I find myself hoping she speaks English in the way that so many people hoped of me, shortly after I arrived.
"I call this language Cruithne, not English, but I speak it fluently."
And thank Elua for that, for I wasn't certain I was up to teaching myself another tongue at the moment. This place was going to require more adjustment than I'd realized to begin. I could only hope that Alcuin and Imriel would have patience with me as I learned my way.
"I was asking you to please remove your shoes if you plan to remain. It is traditional in Elua's temple."
Alcuin had told me of the temple, how Phedre had commissioned it to be built when she was on the island, and how Ysandre had received the statue of Elua and ordered it placed within. Something had kept me from going there thus far, though I could not precisely say why. Mayhap it was simply the fear that Elua would not hear. In the end, I decided that I could continue speaking though I knew not whether he might be listening, or whether I would feel his presence or Kushiel's
( ... )
I felt as though my life had become unhinged and like a shutter tossed in the wind, I'd been banged about without a care to my well-being. The explanations I'd received, the miracle of Alcuin's life, all raced through my mind like mysteries crying to be solved, while my instincts stayed alert. I heard the soft sound of footsteps behind me before the voice cut through the jungle's silence and was already turning when he spoke
( ... )
I thought I saw recognition in her eyes, which filled me with hope, but I was cautious yet, not entirely sure I wasn't simply so glad to see her I was imagining she knew me. I needed to assure her of my identity, and so I did, in the surest way I knew how in that moment - I spoke in zenyan.
"It's me, Phedre," I said, the words coming easier than I might have thought after not speaking the pidgin argot of the zenana in some time. "Imriel. I am much changed since last you saw me, I know, but I promise, in Blessed Elua's name, it's me."
Instinct alone guided me to stand and move closer to him. It was all there, pieces of his father and mother, the shape of his chin, the color of his eyes, but the way he looked at me was entirely his own. Inside the man was the little boy I'd held and protected, the child I'd crossed the known world to rescue and by Elua's grace he'd survived it all.
My hand shook a little as I reached towards his face, upwards towards his face, he was so much taller than the child I remembered, but I still needed to touch him, feel that he was real. Despite all I'd been told this place was very difficult to trust.
"Imri..." The words could scarce leave my lips, but the language was still recent enough that I replied in the same without thinking. "You've grown so."
Comments 107
When he neared the temple he was surprised to see a figure already there - particularly a female figure, as he might only have expected Imriel to pay homage to the statue of Elua that resided there.
But as he neared even closer... he realized that he recognized the figure. Even simply seeing her back.
"Phedre?" His voice was nearly a whisper, as he dared not hope.
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A voice that belonged to a dead man, whose final words still haunted me, made me wonder a thousand times, what if...
Turning, my face still stained with my tears I could naught but stare, the realization seeping into my bones. Alcuin. My beautiful Alcuin. Oh, Elua, upon my death I could ask for no better guide to my life after.
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He had been through this before. With James. With Giles. Who had not remembered him. And the way that she was looking at him...
But he was too overwhelmed with joy to think on it for now. He ran forward, and threw his arms around her.
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"Alcuin. Elua, it is you, isn't it?"
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"What is this place?" he asks, feeling raw and rude as soon as the words are out of his mouth.
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"It is a temple of Elua." Whether he would know what that meant, I couldn't guess, but my speech was plain enough for him to understand, even with my d'Angeline accent.
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Watching the new arrival and noting his limp, I still felt a twinge of guilt. Blessed Elua may be new to this place, but I had faith that He still saw his children, even as far removed as Alcuin, Imriel and I were for the time and to honor him as best I could, the request needed to be made. "Would you mind, Messire, removing your shoes if you intend to stay? It's traditional to do so in Elua's temples. I'd be happy to assist if you need it?" I nodded to the leg he favored.
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Yet even in my unsettled state, I remained alert, my travels of late having left me unwilling to relax my guard without Joscelin by my side. The arrival of the man, with features that placed him as from Ch'in - or at least in the manner of my home - did not go unnoticed and I debated not speaking, but politeness and curiosity bade me different.
Unsure what language he spoke, I began in my native tongue, if that wasn't one he spoke, I'd keep going until I found one he did. "It is customary to remove one's shoes in a Temple of Elua."
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"I am sorry," I say first. It seems to be the proper thing to do, whenever I find myself being the one who's incapable of processing the words of another. The majority are those with the voice that sounds, after all, at the end of the day. "I did not understand that. Do you speak English?"
It strikes me as no less than ironic, that I find myself hoping she speaks English in the way that so many people hoped of me, shortly after I arrived.
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And thank Elua for that, for I wasn't certain I was up to teaching myself another tongue at the moment. This place was going to require more adjustment than I'd realized to begin. I could only hope that Alcuin and Imriel would have patience with me as I learned my way.
"I was asking you to please remove your shoes if you plan to remain. It is traditional in Elua's temple."
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"It's me, Phedre," I said, the words coming easier than I might have thought after not speaking the pidgin argot of the zenana in some time. "Imriel. I am much changed since last you saw me, I know, but I promise, in Blessed Elua's name, it's me."
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My hand shook a little as I reached towards his face, upwards towards his face, he was so much taller than the child I remembered, but I still needed to touch him, feel that he was real. Despite all I'd been told this place was very difficult to trust.
"Imri..." The words could scarce leave my lips, but the language was still recent enough that I replied in the same without thinking. "You've grown so."
Reply
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