Welcome to Gaia! ::

There was no telling if or how anyone who had been taken by the shadow demons could be recovered. It could be either a reasonable or impossible journey, and even with all his studies, Zekiel could not promise Rainer even a sure chance, let alone a successful outcome. But perhaps that was not his task, either. Only to do the most he could, with what he knew.

“It is the same but not the same temple you may have visited before,” Zekiel said.

The land was the same that the gods had crafted many eons ago, long before either of them had been prayed for and made between their parents, that much was so. But much had occurred on this specific subset of space that even he was not privy to, and it didn’t seem reasonable to equate himself and whatever presence he had here with those who had come before. Rainer and his family had attended church, but never his church, and never in the particular set of circumstances they had before them now.

There was no reason for Rainer to hesitate, but it was Zekiel’s task to convince him as much.

“No harm will come to you or I here due to your presence,” he promised with full faith. “Any harm that does come for whatever reasons that may be are those I am prepared to bear with you.” His eyes lit, his lip curving up a fraction more in invitation. “There is only food and rest here, Rainer. I welcome your company, and trust the gods will bless it. Please relax…and be wary only of Babasa…”

His serpent, who frequented the halls of his temple at will in these days, was a lethargic and gentle character so far as he had ever seen, spending the vast majority of her time lounging in sunny patches of light and flicking her tongue at his ear when she desired attention or sustenance—usually the latter. Lavender as an early evening sky, she rarely saw fit to move about without sufficient inspiration, but Zekiel had had rare opportunity to witness her cross—but only ever when his company was at odds with him, and he didn’t feel the boy at his side had anything to fear in that regard.

“She is a friend, and a curious and affectionate sort.”

Even after assurances, Rainer evidently reserved lingering doubts for himself, hesitating a moment more at the threshold. When he made it, however, Zekiel smiled.

“Babasa is a keldari,” he said. “The gods put her in my company some years ago, before I had yet left the Sanctum. She made it within our walls seeking warmth during a winter. It has pleased her to remain with me since. You have nothing to fear from her,” he clarified, his tone still brisk and light as though describing a particularly interesting play or cloud formation rather than one of the jungle’s serpents—not that they were especially dangerous if left unbothered even in the wild, but he had known a number of friends to be uncomfortable just the same. “I thought you might prefer to learn of her from me before seeing her yourself the first time.”

Perhaps Rainer would be especially fond of them or unbothered, but Zekiel had had visitors before who found the rather large snake unpleasantly surprising when they had come upon her in the temple without prior warning.

The temple was quiet, currently inhabited only by the two of them most likely, given the day and hour, and there was a special variety of peace to such a state, when it felt like the gods’ energy could inhabit the still spaces of evening and rejuvenate them after a day in constant motion. But then, Zekiel himself was accustomed to company of all varieties, and it was a pleasure to have even one guest. Speaking to many was part of his service, which inevitably meant many firsts—every friend was a stranger once upon a time, after all—such that it never occurred to him to feel any special pressure or anxiousness to fill the space. Words would come when they did. Until then, he lead his guest up a small, enclosed and winding staircase to the second story, and the room there currently dedicated to serving as a spare bedroom, on the rare occasions now that there was need.

Though it wasn’t an especially large temple, the lower floor was dedicated predominantly to service—the main prayer hall and pews, the podium from which he delivered mass, and adjacent rooms for special rituals, private ceremony, and meeting rooms for confessional or console. On the second floor, it doubled as living and workspace, with its largest room being dedicated to an office-library, and the rest serving as kitchen space, his personal bedroom, washroom, and guest rooms.

“You may rest as soon as it please you,” he said, “but I will begin supper, and would welcome your company for that if you have appetite.”