[FIN][Yael] His Father Before Him [Zekiel | Rainer]

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

A mad man had lived here, some of the villagers said in ‘private’ conversation to whatever degree whispers were private. Zekiel found they had a way of moving faster than normal speech at times. A good man, others challenged, until the day his cursed daughter took his wife’s life in bringing her into the world.

It was an all too common trade the gods enjoyed to make, Zekiel had come to see. So far as he understood it, though, it was a duty on whatever child the gods brought into the world in such a way to give meaning to their mother’s last act. It was how he felt about his own, in any case—ever striving to accommodate for the sin of taking his mother and bringing whatever betterness into the world that it was his within his power to bring.

The man had passed away fairly recently, his health having deteriorated rapidly after the loss of his wife, and seeming only to have collapsed completely once the disappearance of his daughter lead to the disappearance of his son. There was ample rumor about the exact chain of events and reasons therefore, but regardless, as the city’s priest he had received a summons request shortly after discovery of the body to cleanse the house after the death—and clear whatever curses might have been upon the man beforehand that lingered after his life, as clearly the gods had not smiled on him.

Zekiel took in the area of the village as his ride slowed. Normally, the entirety of Ilidan not being particularly large to begin with, he might have walked. But it was an area of town he hadn’t yet had occasion to spend much time. And Bartrand could use the tip. The wagon slowed to a halt, Zekiel hopped out, and fingered through his waist pocket to pull out a coin.

“The gods appreciate your service as I do,” he said, holding it out to the man—a ranch hand, for the most part, though he spent certain times offering transport around the city when he could. Bartrand’s ears warmed.

“It’s not necessary, Father. It’s on the house.”

Zekiel smiled. “Many unnecessary things are pleasing just the same. Your daughters would enjoy to spend it perhaps even more than you. And I am Zekiel…”

With only token reluctance, the man accepted the coin then, grinning sheepishly. “Blessings to you, Father Zekiel. I will let the girls know the gods are giving.”

With that and their farewells, Bartrand’s cart departed with a clatter down the stone street, and Zekiel glanced to the building before him. It was a modest place among modest places, but for all the whispers encircling it, it wasn’t an unwelcome thing upon approach.  

[Faithofthefallen]

He'd been a good man once.

Rainier heard the whispers as he trudged down the street towards his childhood home, hands in his pockets, head tilted so his long tresses hid his face. Still, some recognized him and the murmurs began to grow in his wake.

He wondered if he was supposed to feel consoled, if he should be reassured by the fact that the man who had sired him had not always been a bitter shadow.
But was it better to know that a good man could still choose such a dark fork in the road? Especially when Rain's own heart was so constricted with anger and grief that sometimes it felt hard to breathe through the shadows. Would he become what he hated? Or was the fact that Rain had not taken to abusing others to assuage his own pain proof that his father had never been as good of a man as he had led others to believe.

They said his disappearance had compounded his father's illness. Rainier was disgusted with himself when he felt a surge of satisfaction at the thought. Perhaps it was simply that, in the end, his father had cared enough about his children for something they did to reach whatever shred of self was left in him. Still, part of him worried he had indeed become cruel in his despair and if this was evidence of the toll it was taking on his spirit. He had tried a cleansing, but he had felt himself clinging so tightly to the darkness in his spirit, had known he wasn't doing more than going through the motions with the priest back at the Sanctum. Without hope to drive him, there was only fury. And if the fury went away, what would be left for him to use to save Raisa?

He stopped in front of the house, lost in his thoughts. Over time, he noticed another man also gazing at the small building. With a start, Rainier realized he recognized him from the Sanctum, had seen him while standing in the crowd before the Dretch had stolen the young priest under everyone's noses. Rainier flinched visibly at the memory. He realized the man was also a priest and must be here to perform the cleansing rituals.

Rainier's mouth twisted ruefully, "You should probably just burn the whole thing down, Father." He found himself offering, his voice rough from disuse. "Build something new in its place."

The Only Black Uke

 

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Faithofthefallen

You should probably just burn the whole thing down, Father…

Zekiel hadn’t been expecting company. Most of his people were leery of such things to begin with. Areas of death were often concentrated with power and potential for corruption. It was why the gods’ Chosen were tasked, after being schooled in cleansing and ritual, with handling such places so as to avoid unnecessary overspill and respect the rites of passing between worlds. Beyond that, so far as he had been told, the deceased had lost all his known relatives in one form or another, so there were not expected relatives to be about.

Yet…

He smiled at the newcomer, dipping his head in greeting. “Once upon a time dedicated hands raised these walls and the gods have left it sturdy despite all it has seen,” he said. Misfortune might have walked the halls of the building once, but that didn’t make it unsuitable for supporting better beginnings in the future so far as Zekiel was concerned. But, while he had a visitor here…

“Did you happen to know the family?” he asked.

The villagers would have recognized either of the heirs, he was fairly sure, if they returned, but being that he had only been residing in the town long term since transference to his temple, he was not familiar yet with everyone, or certainly not those whose history here predated his own. If either of the man’s children could be located, however, the inheritance would be theirs to do with what they would, assuming the man owned the property himself. Without better information on where they had gone or why they had left, however, there was no telling how the property would be handled after it had been deemed fit again for use.

Amidst his thoughts, it occurred to him that the young man before him looked—tired, but more by much than that word alone could express. He managed a decent enough presentation of normalcy, but there was a curtain about him reflected in the roughness to his voice and worn tone. Zekiel wondered privately what had inspired the gods to lead his path here on this day.  

[Faithofthefallen]

He mulled that over, realizing the priest hadn't meant for such a polite question to be so shrouded in hidden meaning.

"I knew the daughter, yes" he replied trying not to wince at the ache. "I thought I knew the son, but now I'm not so sure... The father, no. I'm sorry to say I never knew him. At least not as they describe him now. He a lonely, bitter old man. Cruel in his misery. He blamed my sister for simply being born." Rain spat, not realizing he had unconsciously slipped out of his charade. "A child. He blamed a child for his wife's death. When they were warned she wasn't strong enough to bear another child and they chose to anyways."

He kicked the dirt again, blinking against the sudden burn in his eyes. For the family that could have been had it not been rocked so early by devastation. He remembered his early years as the shiny, soft impressions of childhood. He could recall no fear, no anger or grief. His father could have chosen to continue that life after his mother's passing, instead he had turned an already painful situation into something desperate. True, Rainier had been spared the blame, but he had always thought that, deep down, his father didn't really blame Raisa for what had happened. He blamed himself and hated himself for it. And his father had become so engrossed in hatred and self medication that he had grown incapable of loving another person.

"Do you think its possible for a good man to go bad, father? Or were they just bad all along?"

He wasn't sure why he was chatting with this priest. He held no love for his church at the moment, but there was something fresh and clean about the man standing near him that seemed to draw out some of his poison, for better or worse.

The Only Black Uke

 

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Zekiel watched as he listened, and initially, it seemed as though he had merely been familiar with the family. Then—my sister—Zekiel’s impression took a turn. Outwardly, he made no note of it. Clearly it pleased this young man to distance himself from whatever had occurred with his family, and given what had been rumored of them, he might have guessed why. Still, it was an interesting way to approach the test of loss and trial.

As he listened, he felt a strange kinship with the details. The man who had sired him, after all, had been more married to his bottle and his boat than to any woman or child, and after the passing of his own mother at his birth, the man had thought him his punishment and had only been all to glad to give him to the church. Zekiel had only recently, after years estranged, begun to mend the miscommunications sired by struggle and sorrow. And this boy, who had already lost his father, would never be given that opportunity for reconciliation.

So was the gods will in this instance, apparently. Perhaps relations had gone beyond the point of mending. “Sometimes when we do not understand the gods’ will, we fear it and curse it, and are rewarded with more trials…it is not the mark of a bad person, only one in need of help. Often, those most in need of compassion and aid are those who give the least as they have lost their way…but in their own pain, they may bring it about in others.”

Pain and trial sowed pain and trail, so far as Zekiel could see, and though he understood the complete cycle and all its details to be a thing of awe and wonder, he had come to see a responsibility in each individual, beginning with himself, to make as much of a force for the better as could be managed, as each person was given a potential to be either.

“Any of us can take a path further from one of favor, but none of us are beyond reach,” he said, “and we become who we will be judged as through our choices. The gods’ tests can drive those who do not learn to cope to take terrible action…but no action taken makes the man of the past, who had not yet made those choices, a bad man. We always have the choice before us to make good in what we do.”

Giving a small smile, he held out a hand. “I am Zekiel. Have you tired yourself to be here? It looks as though the gods have given you a long road to walk.”  

[Faithofthefallen]

Rainier thought about that... And winced. Recognizing how his own situation echoed that of his father's. How he was filling the emptiness with his own fury. It was very similar to what his father had done after his mother's death. He liked to think he was better than to take his pain out on a small child, but who knew what the pain would twist inside of him if he refused to let it go, if he let it drive him. His fear of the emptiness was strong, but his fear of becoming like his father sent a wash of ice down his spine. Raisa would hate him if he let this break him that way. He would hate himself, perhaps he already did a bit, for his weakness.

"I wish I knew your certainty." He choked out, "Its hard to show fealty to the gods when it feels as though they will cast you down regardless of whether you hold strong to your faith or cast it into the fire."

Rain's shoulder's hunched. "I did not mean that. But its so hard."
He turned to face Zekiel fully, "Not long in distance perhaps, Zekiel, but my spirit ... It feels as though my soul has been climbing mountains for months with neither food, nor rest. I'm so tired. And I've done nothing yet."

Having resigned himself to a few sparse hours of sleep a night in his attempts to catch up with the prentice healers who had been studying for years, his mental resilience was a wavering thing. The sleep he did manage to snatch in between studying and work was wracked with nightmares of the Dretch.

He took the priest's hand and clasped it as if clinging to the rail's of a sinking ship. Desperation pooled in his wide eyes. "You were there, Zekiel." His voice was rough with fear, "I remember your face. You were there when they came, and took that young boy. Just snatched him away, with no more emotion than a hunter snaring a rabbit." He held up a hand, displaying two fingers held a mere inch apart. "I was this close. But I could do nothing. How do you trust in the gods when there are such horrors sharing this world with us? Did the Gods make the Dretch too?"

The Only Black Uke

 

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

It was clear to see in the boy’s face, from expression to posture to tone, if not to even feel in the air around him, that he meant what he said. His trials had exhausted him, and when faith in anything and everything at all was thin, it was difficult to find some to spare catered to the rules of a written faith.

“Though I mean not to discourage you from visiting my temple at any hour that please you, it is not always necessary to show fealty through visits to a church or even words to the gods themselves. All of us and all that we live in here is the gods’ creation. When it is difficult to feel grateful to the gods for our troubles…we might instead attempt to lessen the struggles of those around us and put our energies to honoring what the gods have created by making ours a positive influence on the lives our decisions affect.”

Zekiel studied his company, and couldn’t help the strange pull in his chest that came with the thought inspired by his latter question.

How do you trust in the gods when there are such horrors sharing this world with us? Did the Gods make the Dretch too?

After a moment, he decided there was likely no better option for the boy than the truth. Or, what of it he was allowed to share, after having met with the Sanctum council regarding the matter. “Our gods are not always kind,” he said, “and it may not always be our part to know their reasons for the trials they send us…but they have them. The demons who appeared at our Sanctum are not the design of our gods. There are many gods of the foreign shores who have created beasts wondrous and terrible, and lands beyond our imagining. I cannot say if our gods have any power over them…but it does not strip each of us of the power to remain faithful to our creators in our times of deepest struggle and do what we may to protect our people.”

Yael, quite against character in many respects, had sent envoys as many other nations had to discuss and dissect the problem of the Dretch. Zekiel himself couldn’t say what would come of it, or what role their people and gods would have in the greater spectrum, but after a period where even he faced doubt as to whether there was anything that could be done, it was clear: each day the gods gave them to draw breath and the strength to stand, there was something that could be done. Perhaps not to change the immediate struggle, but to aid in other ways.

“I felt,” he admitted, “in the moments that I watched the darkness swallow him, when prayer did nothing that I could see and I knew there was nothing in my power to do to stop it, that perhaps I and all of us were powerless entirely. But I think,” he said, “it is not that we are powerless, but rather that we were not placed on a path with the option to affect the world in the way we wanted. We are not here to do what cannot be done…only what can. And sometimes…” He eyed the boy before him, “even that is exhausting, and we must rest.” He tipped his head. “If it would ease your stay, there is room within the temple, and food. It would not be the first I had a guest fill a spare room.” His eyes warmed. “Your traveled soul might appreciate physical rest.”  

[Faithofthefallen]

Rainier was so caught off guard when he felt the kernel of hope flicker into life within him that he let go of Zekiel to clench at his abdomen in shock. He had been so busy studying, focusing on needing to be useful for once, needing to hone this one skill to perfection to somehow help in the party he wanted to form to save his sister, that he had lost track of how many other people he would be able to help when this journey had finished. He still hadn't managed to consciously grasp his power, the slowly healing cuts on his hands testament to his attempts and failures to summon it, but when he mastered this he would be doing something truly meaningful with his life.

He looked down, struggling to control the wild surges of emotion within him, suppressed for so long without hm even knowing it. The kernel of hope blossomed and filled that empty space within him, a safety net against being dragged into that emptiness.
He closed his eyes against Zekiel's words, not in pain, but in relief, as a sort of balm washed over his spirit. Knowing he was not alone in his horror at what had happened. That even this priest, this epitome of a servant to the Gods had felt that fear and powerlessness. He was not a freak, he was not broken, and most importantly, he did not feel alone. Even if it was just for this moment.

"Thank you, Fathe - Zekiel" He corrected himself hurriedly with a small blush as he managed to look up and meet the other man's gaze, "The Dretch have haunted me since that day, I can't stop thinking of that boy's face.
I had forgotten what it felt like to feel hope."

His hands tingled and he looked down at them with a start, at the soft glow infusing his skin. The redness around the newest slices faded, the swelling shrank, the older scabs fell away as his skin finished knitting together.
"Now if I could only figure out how to do that on purpose." He muttered to himself with a wry smile, but a smile no less, his first real one in months.
It was followed by a yawn so intense that it rocked him back on his heels as exhaustion settled into his limbs.

"I think I'd like to take you up on that offer, Zekiel, thank you." He glanced over at his old home, wariness filling his gaze. He had to admit he would still really would love to watch flames devour it until only a charred skeleton remained, but he knew the building was not the source of his pain. Just a symbol of it.

"Part of me still thinks this house would look better as a pile of ashes, but perhaps you're right. Perhaps...Needing to destroying a symbol confirms its power over you. Maybe just walking away and letting the symbol change takes the power back. Even if the process is slower and less... Satisfying. Maybe one day, I'll walk through this village again and hear laughter ringing from those windows. See a family filling its walls with fun and love and the meaning of this place will change for me. I think I'd like that."

"May I watch? While you do the cleansing?" He had never seen much of priests outside of ceremonies and cleansing. They seemed to live in a world apart. To be quite honest, the fact that he was standing here talking to one about his troubles boggled his mind a bit.

The Only Black Uke

 

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Zekiel smiled, noting with quiet interest as the boy’s hands glowed dimly with inherent magic, making itself visible as they spoke.

Now if I could only figure out how to do that on purpose…

“That,” he said, “is among the powers that will be in your control in time.” Many things were not within anyone’s power but the gods after all, and yet to even a studious prentice, early struggles could make mastery of their art seem distant or impossible—but it was in fact one of those things most within the power of an individual to influence.

“And, wondrous,” he added at the accepted invitation. “It is always more pleasant to keep company.”

At the latter question, he nodded. “Of course.”

There was no danger to anyone to witness a cleansing, generally—certainly not of this nature—and perhaps it would aid the boy to witness it being brought to a clean slate at least on the spiritual sphere. Erased of the ghosts that inspired his desire to see it as ash, if not changing its physical state. Zekiel stepped forward, drawing from his coat pocket a small pouch, barely the width of two fingers and pullstringed shut, which he opened. Beginning on the west end of the house, he pinched, sprinkling a fine line of white grain along the front of the residence, and reciting as he went an opening prayer to the house spirit and Dafiel in the language of the gods. As it was taught only from scripture in the Sanctum to the Chosen for the purposes of ritual and ceremony, it wouldn’t be intelligible to the public ear, but it wasn’t meant to be.

After coming to the far end, Zekiel returned to approach the door, knocked, and after a moment’s wait out of courtesy to the spirit, he opened it. A dull creek echoed into the empty room beyond, and Zekiel crouched, setting a single white pearl in the right corner of the doorway, placed just so that as he stood, the outer light from the street glinted off its surface, piercing a thin light through the entryway. He lit a candle, and stepped inside.

If the heirs did not come forward, the home would be cleared of belongings to be stored for a time for safekeeping, and eventually sold at a public auction if there was anything of worth. But nothing could be cleansed until after the funeral ceremony finalizing the passage to the worlds beyond, and nothing could be used until it had been cleansed. So, but for the most basic of clean up done upon discovery of the body such that the house was sanitized and divested of anything that would rot or spoil, nothing was yet out of place. Few among the Yaeli dared to steal from the dead, after all.

In systematic fashion, Zekiel moved from one room to the next. He opened each set of shutters, placing a small pearl in the light of each windowsill. He pooled a fingernail’s worth of salt in each of the four corners of each room, and recited prayers of purification and passage as he went. Each of the pearls was a beacon for Lurin, drawing light into the rooms, and the salt a repellent for the negative energies, opening the space for new beginning.

“You said that you knew the man’s daughter,” Zekiel said. Since the boy had volunteered it, he felt it was likely a ‘safe’ area for inquiry. “Would you happen to know her whereabouts? Or whether or not there is anything remaining in the home she or her brother might wish to keep before it is cleared…”

He eyed the young man as he asked, his words gentle, but gaze curious. It was possible, if it truly held no positive memories for him, that there was nothing left in the space of value to him. But something had brought the young man here after his father’s death, and in Zekiel’s experience, apathy rarely inspired action.

Then again, perhaps the putting to bed of ghosts was all he needed.

There was no harm in asking, regardless.  

[Faithofthefallen]

Rainier met Zekiel's words with another smile, his cheeks aching at so much unexpected use.

As the priest walked towards the house, Rainier followed a short ways and then stopped to keep a respectful distance. His eyes wide as dinner plates as the man pulled out his pouch and began to chant. The words were strange to his ears and even if he had had any desire, he doubted he could have remembered even a single syllable, they seemed to slip in and out of his consciousness like air, touching everything, but leaving no evidence of their passing.

Rainier sucked in a breath and for the first time in months, made the sign against evil as Zekiel knocked and then opened the door. "Be careful." He found himself whispering compulsively. He couldn't help but quiver, his mouth dry and his pupils dilated in fear as Rain stared into the familiar front room. It wasn't his own fear that he felt emanating from this house, it would be better if it was. Instead it was a lifetime of Raisa's pain, loneliness, and fear that swirled from that doorway in a creeping miasma. He should have taken her out of here sooner, but he couldn't become her legal guardian until he was of age. h'ed protected her as best as he could. Their father hadn't been physically abusive, but he had been devastating mentally, Rainier had shielded her as best as he could, but as he grew older he had begun working and training. He had begun the motions of his prenticeship, but without direction, he had let his education stagnate while he picked up odd jobs. Saving for the tiny house in Pajore that he had bought for her. And sold again now that she was gone.

Rainier felt that flicker of hope gutter and bank, but through sheer force of will he shoved the bad memories away and clung to that flame. Protecting it from the force of his shame until it re established itself. He wanted to take a knee and rest, would it always be this hard?

He glanced up, watching as the shutters were thrown open, and Zekiel continued his work. He found himself believing that the man could bring the light back to this place. Rainier nodded to himself, he could not bring himself to mourn his father, perhaps one day he could find a way that felt true to himself and what their relationship had been. But he no longer felt that surge of satisfaction at the thought of his passing either, which was a relief. It would be good to let go of the weight of this place, to not fear passing too close to Illidan for fear of running into him. It was just... Over. And he was happy to close the door on that chapter of his life.

Rainier watched silently as Zekiel returned, and then winced at his words. "I do. I suspect..." He swallowed. "I suspect she has been... Taken. Like the boy priest."
There. He'd said the words out loud.
"But I didn't see it, and I have no proof, only happenstance. But she is not on this island. There was no sign of struggle, or of packing, no note. She is gone as if she never existed in the first place. Even the door was locked when I returned."

He blushed, realizing how that mush sound. "She's my sister, you see. I am the son, Rainier. I'm sorry I tried to mislead you, I wasn't.... Every person who recognized me expressed their sympathy for my loss. But they didn't know I wasn't mourning my father, it was my sister. And I couldn't bear another sympathetic platitude over a man whose death... I feel nothing, I do not mourn him. I didn't want to have to explain that."

"You have been kind. Thank you, for the cleansing, and for listening. And for not saying that you're sorry for my loss. Even though you didn't know. I'll still count it."

Rain found himself chuckling, he must seem crazy to this man.
"So, how long have you been in Illidan, Zekiel?"

The Only Black Uke

 

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Taken. Like the boy priest.

And, with that, Zekiel felt new insight into the boy’s grief and anger. His sister had been among the disappeared. He listened as the boy went on, watching his face heat as it became clear he was not being subtle for the distant role he’d tried to play. But, since his tongue had already slipped once before, Zekiel had no reason to be surprised and didn’t pretend to be. If anything, more things now made sense, and so it was with a small shake of the head that he dismissed any apology for the attempted ‘deceit.’

“There is nothing to be sorry for. You mentioned once before that she was your sister,” he said lightly, “but as it seemed to please you more not to be so associated with the house, I didn’t think it my place to inquire beyond your comfort…”

He studied the boy, Rainer, as he went on.

I do not mourn him. I didn't want to have to explain that.

Zekiel gave a small smile. “You do not owe me explanations, nor anyone else who does not understand, and I do not believe it would aid your cause or anyone’s for me to be sorry for what has already come to be…” He tipped his head. “Rather, the gods have put you in my path now, and if there is anything I may do to ease the weight of those losses, or make your road forward easier, that is what I am here for.”

As to the latter question…

“I came to Ilidan shortly after I came of rank, almost a year ago now. The former priestesses of the temple here were aging, and in my youth before the Sanctum named me as Chosen and took me into their keeping, I was born and lived in a village just off the outskirts to the west, along the shore. I thought there no better place to come and give service.” As he spoke, he made his way back out. Now that Rainer had come forward about his identity, it would be easy to inquire about what he wanted done with his inheritance, but there would be time for that in the evening to come. For now, the house was to air, and his company looked as though an end to the strains of the day would do him good.

“Envoys have been sent from our lands to inquire from other nations what they know of the demons. Though we do not have the answers we might wish for, our path is not one without progress. Come…the temple is not a far walk from here,” he said. “The gods limit us in what might be accomplished in a day.”  

[Faithofthefallen]

Rainier ran his fingers through his hair in embarrassment, his cheeks flushing but he couldn't help a self deprecating chuckle, "I was never very good at deception. I appreciate you playing along with me, that was thoughtful of you."

"Thank you." He said simply, "It has been a long time since I have wanted to feel better. I tried to cleanse my spirit back at the Sanctum but I couldn't let go. I'm not sure I can just go back to how I was before, but its good to know that there is a road back, when I'm ready to take it."

"We must have just missed each other." He realized rather regretfully, he had a feeling that he and his sister would have found help in this man. Perhaps his father as well. Or not. Well, he would never know now whether any part of his father had been redeemable.

He began to walk with the priest, keeping a couple steps behind. He felt so strange, to be walking with a priest as if he were just any normal person. This was someone who knew the Gods in a way no ordinary Yaeli ever could. "I had heard of the envoys before I left Pajore." Rain admitted, "I had hoped to travel with them, but they weren't looking to hire inexperienced hands. I have felt for a long time now that my best chance to find Raisa is to leave Yael. I heard some mutterings that the warrior women might know something of the Dretch's location, but I am neither strong enough nor skilled enough to approach them in hopes of information. My best bet is to set sail for the mainland and hope the Gods set me on the right path."

"I'm glad you like it here. I've had my issues with Illidan, but its a good place at its heart. Better with you here to nurture it, I'm sure."

Rainier struggled to keep up even at their modest pace. His strength was flagging. Still, he wondered if he could stay awake long enough to squeeze in more practice before retiring. His healed hands were the first bit of luck he'd had since his power first revealed itself. Rain just had to figure out how to grasp the power, he found himself wracking his memory in an attempt to isolate the exact feeling he'd experienced before the power had shown itself.

He thought back, he had been talking with Father Zekiel, who had been talking about lessening the struggles of those around him as a method for dealing with life's struggles and he had felt.... Hope. Rainier felt the power surge again and his gait steadied at the small burst of energy.
He suddenly laughed out loud and did it again.
His first intentional use of the power!
Rain realized that the first time he'd realized he could heal had been when he'd come up with a plan to rescue his sister. His power depended on hope!
That was rather cheesy, but harder than it sounded when he thought back on all the negativity that had been affecting him these past months. Learning to maintain hope in a world filled with sorrows would be no small task.

"Do you know of any ships capable of making the voyage to the mainland, Father Zekiel? Although my father's death was the catalyst for my decision to come now, my biggest concern is finding a captain willing to make the journey. I've heard its a harrowing experience."

The Only Black Uke

 

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Faithofthefallen

…I'm not sure I can just go back to how I was before…

“None of us will ever be again who we once were,” Zekiel saw fit to add. “Our experiences shape us, and we cannot change what has happened…but we can always find happiness and good to do in the world on our road forward if we are blessed with the chance to try.” Not everyone got even that chance, after all.

It did seem that their paths had only just fallen shy of intersecting at an earlier date. As Rainer spoke of traveling for the far shore, Zekiel found himself nodding. It wasn’t an unexpected conclusion to come to, and did seem the most likely to procure results. At, Better with you here to nurture it, I'm sure… , though, Zekiel felt an unanticipated flush heat his cheeks, and he smiled. Devoted as he was to his service, Zekiel was still a young man himself despite his rank, not much older than Rainer must have been—a decade, perhaps, at most, if not only a handful of years—and it was assuring to know, particularly in times such as these, that others felt he was making a difference.

He slowed his pace, observing without comment that even a leisurely stride was something of a strain for his companion. Then, while his attention was upon him, the luminous glow to Rainer’s hands that had appeared prior returned with renewed effect. And then laughter. A pleasant energy seemed to fill the air with it, and coming from a young man who had carried so much grief with him at the outset, it was among the most curing of activities.

At the latter question, Zekiel couldn’t help but smile, because, as the gods would have it: “I do. There are others that I do not know myself, but through a friend of mine — a doctor of Pajore — I know of one ship which has made the voyage a number of times, to make trade between our land and theirs. The captain, though, is a mainlander himself…”

Zekiel, perhaps overtrusting his fate to the gods in the eyes of some, had never personally felt any fear inherent from the mainlanders for their appearance alone. Relatively early in his prenticeship to the Sanctum, even, he had interacted with the bleed-in of foreigners onto their shores, and though he knew some did pose a threat to their people, it was far from all. His own curiosity for them did not make him blind the vast majority of his people’s discomfort with them, and even if it was Rainer’s intent to travel abroad, that wasn’t to say he was ready to trust his fate to a ship steered by foreign hands.  

[Faithofthefallen]

Rainier thought truer words were never spoken. People, for the most part, seemed to be as moldable as clay. He couldn't decide if that was encouraging or terrifying.

His heart soared at Zekiel's words. He was the first who had met Rain's intentions to leave Yael with anything but scorn or terror. Although his stomach gave a little lurch at the thought of boarding a mainlander ship, it was a step in the right direction, and he wasn't so overwhelmed with options that he could afford to turn his nose up at a ship because of who captained it. Rainier thought it might even be fun to watch how one of them functioned, as long as he could keep a healthy distance. At least for a while. It would be his first adventure, and a leap of faith if ever there was one.

Rainier swallowed nervously, "If he would have me... I would go." His voice sounded more sure than he would have expected, but it still betrayed some of his hesitancy. He held no hate towards outsiders, but he wasn't particularly comfortable around them. He hadn't really considered that once he was out of Yael, he wouldn't have any Priests or Priestesses to turn to. The thought was semi terrifying. "Do you know of any rituals I could learn? To protect myself once I'm out of Yael."

The Only Black Uke

 

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

“How far do you intend to go?”

As a servant of his gods Zekiel did not expect to ever leave Yael’s shores himself, but that did not stop the lands beyond from being a source of fascination and curiosity. He understood his people’s fear, but he felt also that more than anything, they and even their gods were a smaller part of a greater tapestry of gods and people than anyone, including himself, fully understood. But it was alright to be small. It meant the possibilities for exploration and discovery were limitless by comparison.

“I can give you blessings of protection and fealty…I would also suggest you take the traditional times for prayer, and can provide you with some grounders for the homeland.” Incense of Yael’s landscape, smooth stones of its shore, a bowl crafted of the clay of the land and a statuette carved of its wood—all these things tied an individual to their roots in prayer.

“Many of the church would discourage travel to the far shores and beyond, and it does risk the connection with our gods,” he said. “But it may be done without the loss, for those who are cautious. If it were I to step foot off these lands, I would bring with me bedding and clothing woven of our country, the food of our land, and the instruments of prayer for our gods…”

Though one couldn’t know exactly what it was that determined when a Yaelian born lost the glow of their gods’ recognition, Zekiel felt that it must be a broken link in the chain of connection. Some of their people left and returned without difference—but others were never the same.

The church of Ilidan was a modest temple, but beautiful in its own right, set atop a hill such that it might overlook the village and, as they approached it, encased again in a low-lying, misty level of light fog. The jungle humidity surrounding them often leant itself to such, and when Zekiel pulled, the front entrance opened without effort. He couldn’t recall last he’d locked it.