He gave a slight nod, as if noting that someone had jostled him, for…well for all he knew someone had. No one around him seemed to notice the string, after all…they were all just a tad drunk.
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It was not normal liquid, the ichor. It was starry, like tiny blinks in existence, liquified.
It tasted like liquid cold, hard and sharp, searing your throat. Then it started. Another thread connected to your head. The ichor worked its way through your veins, making your fingers twitch uncontrollably. The thread yanked hard, pulling your head up so as you stared into the sky. It was empty, the infinite void glaring back at you. Then it reached out to you. It whispered, a hushed voice for your ears alone. A soothing voice, like a cold drink on a hot day, washing over you.
“Setara. So you have chosen.”
“You will have to, heretic, if you wish to finally redeem yourself.”
Shidris snapped, her face a scowl, as the crowd suddenly became hushed. Their gazes were burning into your back, like daggers plunged into you. They were waiting, and they stared as Setara twitched, the ichor pulsing through her veins now. It will be you turn soon. Very, very soon.
Shidris turned to you, her scowl turning into a serene smile.
“You may on now. Solar is waiting for you…”
The thread tightened itself, and you can feel yourself being grasped and tugged back, back towards the dais.
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When her fingers start twitching, Setara tried to regain control over them. This wild motion was against her training, against her instincts. Yet, when she’s yanked back into looking at the sky and seeing only emptiness, she left go. There was no point in resisting the work of the gods, she knew better.
The voice left her breathless; eyes unable to blink. When Setara realizes who the voice must belong to, a small gasp came out of her. Remembering to breath again, she responded to the voice in a quiet, raspy gasp.
“Yes lord, as requested of me. Though I am not fit to choose.”
Setara pauses. If there’s no response she adds the following.
“Lord, I must confess my confusion. If it would please you, may it be cleared from me? Why am I among your chosen?”
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He reflexively stabbed his cane into the ground giving a small frustrated grunt, “Now now, who’s doing?” he stumbled forward more quickly tapping his cane in deduction of where he was going, “Now, now,” he stammered, “None of that!” he tried to whirl around a little, and then it hit him…
Well more correctly he hit an unfortunately placed flag pole. He froze and took a step to the side, “Well then, now…ah,” he frowned, “Well this is quite embarrassing,” he said with a mild chuckle as he tried to move calculatingly forward.
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It took all of the crowd hushing into silence for Conleth to get out of the trance he was in. Looking about for a moment, he noticed a pleasant-looking girl in a pretty dress get her head yanked towards the heavens, her face falling from ragged concern into a solemn acceptance. She spoke as if someone had addressed her, yet Conleth heard nothing.
Why are all the village girls so simple-minded?
“Huh?” Conleth spun around to face Shidris as if she had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Go down? But I didn’t- I mean, I haven’t drank the…
…Did I do something wrong?
“Yes ma’am.” He obliged, turning and stepping down from the dais, unsure of what was supposed to happen. Was this all planned, or had something gone wrong?
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Tebor stood, the silence of the crowd after Shidris’s remark not uncommon.
Heretic … he’d heard that for years now, and despite the reactions, it had lost most of its sting.
But there was something about her tone that struck a nerve.
Tebor glared back at Shidris, defiantly.
“Heretic?” He questioned, “You call me a heretic, and this will somehow redeem me.” He replied, allowing the silence of the crowd to amplify his words. Stepping forward, he continued; “However, I was chosen despite my heresy. Look around you Shidris,” he said, gesturing to the crowd; “These are gathered here tonight in celebration, longing for a chance to be chosen. And yet the gods chose one who had no desire in this!”
Turning to the crowd, he returned their glares for a moment before pointing to the searing thread attached to him. “How is it that a heretic would be chosen over you?” He shouted, before turning back to face Shidris once more.
“Use your eyes Shidris, the gods have already declared me worthy by their actions. You speak of redemption, but by their act they have proven you wrong. But if you wish to put Your will above that of the gods …” he reached over and took the chalice, and with one gulp downed the rest of the liquid. Turning back to Shidris, he glared at her, disdain in his eyes. “Now let the gods judge between you and I this night, and let them determine who is in need of redemption! You, or the Heretic?”
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"Why are there more stars in my hands then there are bodies in the world, Setara? My reasoning is simple.
Ombre spoke simply, as if the answer was plainly clear to see. The stars stared down at her, like a million eyes, all watching her, analyzing her. They almost…sighed, as if tired, tired of being asked such a question.
“Those underneath my hand have grown few and far between, too few for my liking. So, I sought those who might do better under my own guidance, than under…her’s. And then, my followers found one such as you…”
Slowly, he was pulled in, closer to the dais, as the crowd parted for him…
Shidris nodded.
“Don’t fret. We just need to renew the chalices.”
The ichor tastes faintly metallic, a burn alongside a warm afteglowing feeling, as it swirled around, reaching your mind, as two voices suddenly could be heard. One was warm, like a nice campfire, while the other was as hot as a searing brand, pulsing with anger and restrained emotion.
“Now now, Brother-”
"DON’T YOU BROTHER ME!! YOU CHOSE HIM?!
"Well, I thought everyone deserves a second chance, don’t they?
The second voice huffed in anger, and his voice took on a mocking tone.
"Yes yes, we’re soooo happy you’re here, welcome to our ‘glorious’ cause, run by my idiot of a brother…
“That’s not very nice…”
“Why should I care?!”
Shidris raised an eyebrow in an amused expression. It seemed she could hear them arguing as well.
“Have they? It seems they’re rather…conflicted. It seems one is rather displeased…well, nothing they-or you, can do about it now…”
She smirked again, as some of the robed priests refilled the chalices once more.
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Tebor tried to keep an expressionless face, but the after taste of the ichor made him wince slightly.
“Must be a bad batch.” He muttered to himself, refusing to take his eyes off of Shidris.
“Definitely a bad batch.” he thought, dismissing the voices as nothing more than the beginnings of a bad hangover.
Tebor watches as her expression changed, no longer giving him a look of disgust but that of amusement. Hearing her words, he glared daggers through her. “It might be displeased Shidris, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m here regardless of what you think of me. And even if one of the two aren’t happy with the choice, at least I was chosen. I don’t recall seeing a thread attached to you, nor have I heard any other so called gods argue over you.”
He knew full well she had been chosen at one point, but he had hoped those words would at least touch a nerve. Not giving her a chance to respond, he turned his back to her and walked down a couple of steps before opening his coat and removing a flask. He needed to wash out that horrid after taste, and its contents were more than capable of eating through the rust of a sword - it may do the trick here. Turning to Shidris, he made a show of holding up the flask, then with an irreverent grin he said, “Here’s to heresy!” Before tipping the flask and downing some of its contents.
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He quickly held his tongue in check as delightful words were ever so tempted to spring out and flourish in the day’s light. Attempting to retain a shred of his dignity, his cane was put forward strongly with a heavy tap as he walked forward with a confidence that assumed it would not partake in another embarrassing stumble.
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Setara did a single, long, heavy, blink. The answer washed over her slowly. Her skin prickled with an untold number of bumps and yet could not shiver or wipe them away. Pain returned to her gut. It was growing cold.
That. . . That. . . What?
No. . . No, I must be mistaken. I am mortal, who am I to question the gods? I am mortal, I cannot question. I must not understand. I. . .
She tried to steel herself, but intrusions kept ramming into her thoughts. Ombre did not choose her, he snatched her away from the moon. The moon was going to bless her faithfulness. She allowed herself to fall for a trap. Were the void’s faithful indeed so few that stealing her was necessary? Would he have given her no consideration had another god not picked her?
Did the gods not watch and pick alone? When hence did they take advice from their mortal followers? Or even their champions? Did these shadows see something in her or did they too decide she was only worth after Steelstone pulled her?
. . . Cannot question. He said…he said he wishes to provide guidance. Truly, it must be for great things. Why else challenge?
Packing away the doubt as best she could, Setara answers back. “What is it you would have me do?”
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She narrowed her eyes, as the crowd looked on at the scene Tebor made.
They were once again hushed, as he continued to make a scene…
“Impudent CHILD!!”
Sol roared, making all of the Sun-blessed nearby wince as he raged, and a burning heat mounted within Tebor’s skull. Solar was silent, as Sol reached his apex of fury, and the burning heat became a blinding pain.
“I will teach you a lesson… a LESSON TO THOSE WHO DISRESPECT OUR HEADPRIESTESS!! Kneel, for you are ungrateful! Ungrateful that my brother has forgiven you!! Ungrateful that I did not burn you to ash. Kneel, and accept redemption- Or I will rend our blood from your veins MYSELF.”
He was beckoned to the edge of the dais, as someone whispered in his ear- another clad in silvery armor, tall and imposing, their armor shining. Their voice sounded commanding, striking and true.
“The trickster himself seems to have taken a liking to you…”
Ombre seemed to notice that Setara seemed…uncertain…of her new predicament.
The threads loosened slightly.
“I understand you are…disappointed…but in time…you will learn. There was a choice. I always give a choice. I did not steal you. Silverstones disappointment is not always Luna’s, Setara. It is sometimes simply…his. As to what I will have you do…”
Ombre’s voice became urgent, almost flighty, thick with the anticipation of something on an unforeseen horizon.
“Child, I need you to listen carefully to me. Your other new brothers and sisters have already received their instructions, so I need you to understand yours.”
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…oh.
Conleth looked about awkwardly. This was not at all like he pictured in his head; the pomp and ceremony was being ruined by his clearly not knowing what in the world was going on, and as he was about to find out, by the egos of those participating.
What a JERK.
Conleth scowled angrily at Tebor as he made a grandiose show of disrespect. He couldn’t hear any of the angry voices or feel the intense heat, but he was unknowingly in complete accordance with Sol, folding his arms in disgust at the irreverence shown by this newest sun-blessed.
He better start apologizing to Sol and Solar before they vaporize him and wipe his ashes off the face of the planet. I know I certainly would if I was either of them.
The loud and measured taps of a cane drew Conleth’s attention away from the scene and towards Fodbgen, whose name was so astronomically hard for Conleth to pronounce that he always called him The Blind Guy.
Oh. It’s the blind guy.
…Wait the BLIND GUY??? Conleth’s jaw dropped at the sight of the thread connected to Fodbgen’s chest. But that- The- I don’t- HUH???
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Some color returns to Setara face’s when the threads loosened. Though she hardly noticed, still staring up into the sky. Focused on steady breathing as Ombre tried to reassure her. Words that were not unlike her parents’ - calming in some ways and worrying in others. But what followed that nearly silenced her mind. For what could cause the void to rush?
“Your servant is listening,” Setara says with the boldness of a soldier awaiting orders. Masking doubt and curiosity alike, save for minor trembles at the start.
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The voice roared inside Tebor’s mind causing him to stop mid drink. With a sigh, he realized that he found the line he was searching for this entire time. But how far did he cross it, he wondered …
The pain hit him right between the eyes, blurring his vision and causing his eyes to water. But still, he stood - not out of defiance. He was used to having to pretend that he was fine after consuming some of the local’s homemade liquors. The pain and blurred vision, although painful - was not too dissimilar to the affects of the alcohol. But unlike this, the home brew didn’t bite as hard as Sol’s anger. Gritting his teeth, he rolled his head on his shoulders, hoping to relieve the pain. It was to no avail.
“I have never stopped kneeling before you or your brother.” Tebor thought, his back still turned to Shidris. “My family have served you for generations, my own father a high priest and I a priest in training. Surely you, a god would recall this.” facing away from the high priestess, he slowly lowered to one knee. “You say I am Ungrateful, and Impudent; but I am neither. I never wavered in my loyalty to either of you, nor did my family. It was your priests and priestesses who turned their backs on me and my family. Treating us as pariahs when we did nothing but serve. When we prayed and sought your deliverance from these accusations, begged for your forgiveness for sins we did not commit - there was no answer, no intervention of any kind. Do you not see why I hesitate even now to serve once again? To be burned on a stove, why would a sensible man place his hand to its surface once again?”
he lowered his head, his lips moving with no audible words coming - to the crowd, it appears as though a drunk man is muttering to himself, but his silence isn’t for them or for Shidris, he is letting them be heard by Sol and Solar.
“If you find fault with me for lost confidence in the office of the priests for their actions against me and my family, then I implore you Sol - go ahead, and remove the call from my veins and choose another. Otherwise, if you have mercy as the scrolls decree - show it now. Let me prove to you that I have never been the heretic that the priests have marked me as.”
Looking up to the heavens, he spread his arms and waited, having accepted his fate - regardless of what it may be.
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“Oh, I see,” Fodbgen said, completely blindsided by how this was all turning out. Seeing as he wasn’t quite sure what everyone was doing, he simple kneeled respectfully and awaited whatever was to come.
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(OOC: Sorry for being so long away from this, things have been hectic this past few months, but I finally got this workin again.)
@Ghid
Shidris’s gaze shifted from the kneeling Tebor to Conleth, raising an eyebrow at his apparent confusion. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch ginger and tentative.
“It is nearly your turn. Please, turn your attention to the chalice.”
One of the other priests refilled the chalices, the golden ichor dripping from the cups, dripping down the pedestal, as if a fountain of golden essence.
“I SHOULD-”
“Enough, brother.”
Solar said sharply. The pain melted away, the feverish rage extinguished as he scolded Sol.
“That is far enough. Do you not think it is best to show redemption to those whom are worthy? Is it not enough that your rage must never be equal to my temperance, but always in excess?”
There was a moment of silence, before Sol grumbled indiscernibly.
“Excellent. Run along then, Tebor.”
Solar replied, before the presence withdrew, as if the scorching heat and weight was completely gone, leading to any of the other priests sighing with relief. Shidris looked back at Tebor, and rolled her eyes.
“Your choices will be decided later. For now, step aside.”
“Excellent.”
Ombre seemed rather pleased by that notion.
“I require you to watch closely. Observe the other headpriests…something is not right here…This is your first test. I will leave you for now.”
Soon, his presence was gone from Setaras mind as well, as if a great weight was released from her shoulders, the bending of time and space no longer present, as the threads unwove from her, leaving her alone, the man in the smirking mask looking down at her, his black onyx eyes boring into her like little glittering beetles.
He felt as a chalice was pressed into his hands, one emblazoned with a crescent symbol. It was cold and solid, heavy in his hands, and the ichor inside sloshed slightly as the cup was pushed against his fingertips.
Even if it wasn’t even uttered, drink was a silent command, as if it was plainly and clearly obvious to even the most hindered of senses.
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“By your command, it shall be finished.” Setara said as Ombre’s presence left her body.
Now loose from the threads, her head fell further back. She stared at the masked man from this awkward angle for a second’s eternity. Then her muscles remembered their strength and she craned her neck back to a level position. Her hands came up toward to her face; each digit moved in controlled sequence.
She was back. Warmth returned. She could hear the crowd’s buzzing again. And in this world’s distraction, she almost failed to notice the dread building back up in her little merger form.
She had a test. One of several.
Observe the head priests he said. The words had slain most of her other concerns in the moment. No thoughts of her knighthood being in question, nor that of her mother. Only the command remained. Yet it could not best some questioning on the command itself.
When? Now it seemed.
How long? Until Ombre returned with something more.
How? Was that not the purpose of the test?
Why? . . . Why.
Surely, this meant nothing, she thought. Not wholly nothing, for the gods had a purpose in this. A test of obedience for later trials. Yet, what Ombre implied about the highest faithful among them left a bounding pain. The only cure for such an ailment would be to do as commanded. Either something was wrong or there was nothing and it was a test with no contest.
Realizing that she had been staring at her hands this entire time, Setara picked up her staff and used it to stand back up. She looked at the masked man for a moment, then to the other champions and chosen. The scene forced her into a blank yet dumbfounded expression.
In her trance, it seemed a so-called heretic had been chosen by the sun twins. But she only gave him a passing glance as her focus was captured by her commander handing the chalice…to a blind man. She blinked. If not for the moon’s love of trickery, she’d question if this was Steelstone’s way for getting back at her.
As she watched this unfold, Setara realized she didn’t know where she was supposed to be now. Her mind was too flustered to recall if all those chosen remain by the platform or returned to the crowd. She turned towards Ombre’s champion to ask, parted her mouth, and then closed it. She gave him a slight head bow and then stood off to the side of the platform.
Unless told something or stopped, she remained there only for a few seconds. Then she would return to the crowds, remaining towards the front. Both to watch the others being chosen and to keep watch of the head priests. Or to catch sight of those she has not yet seen.
If allowed to return to the crowds, Setara is temporarily distracted by the sight of her mother. Even with hands covering most of her face, the eye told her everything. Her mother was horrified. She did not wait for Setara to make it all the way to the front, rushing to her partway.
She threw her arms around her daughter, saying so many things that Setara couldn’t quite catch between mumbling and sobbing. Apologizes, asking if she was alright, perhaps some chastising. Her mother wiped away a trailing tear from her daughter’s face.
“Please, mother,” Setara pleaded, pain evident in her voice.
This was not part of the trial she expected. She always thought she would have to prove herself. Yet here, it was as if her mother mourned her passing. Or that she had somehow become defiled and would never be seen again. Perhaps that would be closer to the truth than she wanted to think about right now.
Words failing them both, Setara tore herself away from her mother. She had an order to fulfil, but asked that her mother to get the rest of the family up to the front. Maybe she could still be with family for rest of the event while watching her targets. Or at least, her mother would not be able to distract her for a time.
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Conleth’s eyes had turned towards the crowd, scanning them to see if the audience was as weirded out by the experience as he was, but his body instinctively flinched at the interruption by Shidris’s touch. His glassy eyes watched her mouth closely while his mind took a couple seconds to actually process what had been said.
His mouth opened to reply,but his eyes were too distracted by the refilling of the chalices. By the time he had got his tongue in order, Tebor’s grand display had come to an end.
Conleth decided it was for the best if he dropped that particular conversation without fulfilling the urge to reply and softly stepped forwards, his perfect posture tainted with undeniable awkwardness. Another scene began to draw his attention, but he kept his neck from turning towards it.
There had been enough caught in his peripheral vision to understand it was one of the other chosen, and a grieving parent, no doubt. Or (in spite of that lack of doubt) perhaps a sibling desperate for a return to normalcy. While he couldn’t empathize with either notion - his parents had been dreaming of this moment his entire life and it had become so accepted that his father had taken on the attitude of just getting it over with already - he could certainly sympathize with the feeling.
Almost too much, in fact. He was beginning to genuinely feel sorry for her.
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Fodbgen paused his senses taking it in before he carefully and slowly drank. He did not say anything, simply obeyed.
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As Setara ran into the arms of her mother, the crowd clapped and cheered, eager for another chosen to be added to the numbers once more, and turned to look to the dais again, eager for another to be anointed by the blood. If Setara ever did look, slowly yet surely, her hair shifted from it’s usual champagne hue to an ebony black, the color of the space between stars.
Shidris slowly took the copper colored chalice, now refilled, and handed to Conleth.
It wasn’t the moon that emblazoned this cup, but the sun. It felt warm to the touch, a notion likely neglected to Tebor, due to his brashfulness, but in Conleths hand, it radiated warmth, the golden liquid pulsing with unseen power.
But in the corner of his eye, as the chalice was placed into his hands, he could see a figure, amongst the crowds, draped in blue, red in their hair, and a flower in bloom on their head, staring at him intently, as if waiting for something to happen.
The ichor flowed through him, and so did a presence, like a wisp of smoke trailing after a flame, following his trail of thought. It almost seemed to snicker, before a voice popped into his mind. It was silver tongued and snarky, the undeniable presence of Lun.
“Well well well. It’s you. Finally. It took you long enough.”
Lun snickered.
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