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 Posted: Sat Jan 09, 2016 11:09 am
His mistress was sick, and it's shadow weighed heavily on Aestival's soul. Though she slept quietly now, he could feel the terror of her nightmares seeping through their bond. He needed to do something – the bond compelled him to protect her and keep her alive, but he didn't know what to do. He had tried everything he knew to do, but the light within him was not enough to drive away the darkness that ravaged her body. So, he decided to go to a greater light for guidance.
He knew that the Orderites worshipped the goddess of light, and that he, as an Aedaun (and a bonded to an Orderite) shared that goddess. Maybe she could give him guidance. He trotted to the altar in the house, his claws clattering on the tiled floor in brisk taps as he brought himself before it.
He had seen the Orderites of the house pray there and leave offerings to the goddess. He shook himself off, briefly, his way of making himself presentable before he approached it. He had no offerings – he had only himself. But surely, she would listen. Surely, a goddess of light could help him, if he begged her.
But how did one beg a goddess? He had watched the Orderites pray, his mistress included, but he didn't understand how one did that. He sat at the altar, staring up at the shimmering crystals that decorated it, and tried to come up with something that made sense.
He had seen them kneel and put their hands together. Perhaps that was it. Aestival decided it was worth a try.
He reared up on his hind legs and, awkwardly, pressed his paws together in mimicry. It hurt a little, and it was awkward, but he thought it might do. He closed his eyes – also in mimicry – and tried to mumble something prayerlike. “Oh Seren, goddess of light...” he wobbled, unbalanced, his hindlegs not built for this kind of crouching. “I pray to you, please help...” his eyes opened suddenly as he toppled over, his balance finally giving way. His jaw knocked against the floor and he thrashed for a few moments, getting his feet back underneath him, where they should be. He growled in frustration. Was this really so hard?
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Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 9:31 am
Andorynn Wymrith was not a young man. He liked to think, however, that he carried his years well—with dignity, and grace, even. Ever the youngest of his parents’ children, he had long since had the softest of their features, all smooth and easy on the eyes in his youth. ‘Womanish’ by his father’s definition then, and one of the banes of his existence—may Seren rest his soul in eternal peace. Though the many seasons in between had certainly added definition, however, etching lines here and there on his ivory skin that even elegantly-crafted glamours could not fully hide, he still felt confident in his stride. Healthy, as aided by not only his passable natural healing talents, but the best that noble coin could buy, and down his back, his hair — once a soft, warm white-gold — now showed not the faintest hint of color, but still hung long and straight.
He passed down the long corridor from his chambers towards their room of worship unaided, and in silence. If asked as to his level of devotion to the high goddess, his precise answer would depend on who delivered the question—but such was the case with most things. In truth, he felt genuinely blessed in his life, well aware that fortune had smiled on him often and that he was talented at what he did. Sixty-two years of life, however, also had a tendency to expose the foulest of truths in life, and navigating a landscape of talented liars on a daily basis made it difficult for Andorynn to believe in a divine ‘justice’ to it all that stretched any further than that which a well-timed remark, a jealously guarded secret, or the smoothly executed appearance of the right person in the right place could deal out. Still, prayer was a habit.
And so he prayed.
Or, he would have.
He paused several steps from the entrance to where he would have began his morning ritual, hands folding before himself and eyebrows slowly arching in a silent show of combined amusement and bewilderment. His favorite niece’s bonded, Aestival, was many things. To Andorynn’s knowledge, a devout Serenite was not one of them. And he looked quite decidedly preposterous. This initial judgment was only further supported by the topple and disgruntled scurrying that followed.
Andorynn’s gold eyes warmed, bright with amusement as his lips curved into a smile. “Aestival…” He took a step towards the altar. “The goddess greets you every morning at dawn and you, for once, her? Forgive me if I am intruding on a…” He gave the smallest clearing of his throat, “…private moment, but I do hope you don’t mind my asking…” He moved up as he spoke, slippers padding all but silently along the marble flooring until he stood poised at the bonded’s side: “What in Seren’s name are you doing?”
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Posted: Fri Jan 15, 2016 8:54 pm
Aestival started at the voice, his body tensing not unlike a feline that had just been caught in the act of doing something they weren't supposed to. Someone had seen his fall. His ignoble, awkward, embarrassing fall. He calmed himself, his scaled face expressionless, though his lashing tail betrayed his agitation as he looked up at Andorynn. At least it was his bonded's uncle, an Orderite he trusted and liked, and not someone else that had seen him. That was some comfort. There were few people aside from his bonded he permitted within his personal space. This man was one of them. Otherwise, he would have at least gotten a deep, guttural growl, or perhaps a missing hand. Instead, he got an answer. “I was praying.” he said, shifting from paw to paw uneasily. Obviously, he had been doing it wrong. “To Seren.” As if that wasn't obvious. His resonant voice dropped to a rumbling murmur. “I... need her help.”
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Posted: Sun Jan 17, 2016 2:59 pm
Andorynn watched the bonded as he deliberated and eventually ‘crafted’ his answer. At its conclusion, his face remained outwardly neutral, but the amusement in his gaze softened to something a touch more serious. He felt no need to ask why or for what Aestival thought he needed the help. That much was obvious, and a cool pinch of worry threaded itself through his gut at the thought of his niece. His favorite, of any of his siblings’ children.
“You have come to the right place, then,” he said at length. “I am sure Laesara will appreciate your dedication. Come…we can pray together.” After stepping to the altar himself, Andorynn glanced over Aestival, thoughtful as he ordered the skirt of his robes in preparation to kneel. “I think…” he said, settling carefully onto his knees, “…it would be easiest for you to simply sit as it makes you comfortable, close your eyes, and bow your head. To pray…it is not so much the precise position you work yourself into, so long as it is demonstrative of your seriousness. Should you decide to do this on your own, you needn’t speak your prayers aloud, or even articulate them clearly within your own mind. The crucial element of prayer is making oneself open, subservient, and genuine in one’s message and plea to the goddess…”
Andorynn considered a moment, and then brought his own hands forward, folding them atop his lap and shutting his eyes.
“For our purposes, however, I will lead aloud, if you like.”
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