Welcome to Gaia! ::

Zekiel’s fingers pulled in quick, practiced motions, fastening a small strip of leather ribbon about his hair to tame it back. After, he stood, dusting his fingers over his robes, taking up the tome of Lurin resting at his bedside table and his bag, then starting out of the room. Today had special meaning. Prentice though he still was, his recent exchange with Sister Mortrem had finalized his intent officially to progress on the path of a Sanctum priest when his early training was complete. Thus, given the state of his progress to date, it had been determined that it was high time he traveled further from the city to watch and participate in the broader variety of tasks that his profession would eventually entail.

Under the careful supervision of his elders, of course.

In this case, it was Sister Irrella he was to be traveling with, primarily, along with two clergymen he was not familiar with, and two city guard escorts to keep the peace, being that they would be heading out of the secure sections of the capitol and into neighboring, less predictable areas. Sister Irrella specialized in handling births and blessings, and occasionally would survey the towns and villages of Yael for children appropriate to be taken into the Sanctum.

Zekiel was not positive yet what all he would be tasked with when they arrived, only to bring a change of clothes, his school journal, and appropriate tomes. The rest would be learned along the way.

It would be the first time since being taken into the Sanctum that he had slept anywhere than his dorm bed, and as he made it through the winding halls, down the steps, and out onto the front stairs leading to the temple itself, the crisp morning air prickled at his skin. Under it, his heart stuttered, alive with excitement, and anticipation for what might come.

A travelling carriage waited out front. Nothing elaborate, but large and sturdy enough to suffice for the group of them and the distance planned. It didn’t appear as though his elders had arrived quite yet, but guessing by context that this was indeed going to be his ride at least, Zekiel approached it, coming up beside the one uniformed guard that was there and smiling at him in the meantime.

“Good morning and many blessings to you,” he greeted, satchel still strapped over his shoulder and the rest of his belongings held tucked in front of him in his arms. Interestingly, the guard did not look much older than he, though he must have been by at least several years. He was certainly, at least, taller and broader in every respect.

“I am Zekiel,” he added after a moment and then, following the line of the man’s gaze previously: “Have you been within the Sanctum? I have not seen seen you at mass, but perhaps you have been to some I couldn’t attend. It happens, I am sure, but I am sure those, too, are wondrous just the same. Will you travel with us all of the way? I have never been long in a vessel such as…” His gaze flicked to the carriage, “…that. Only ever once, in fact. But that was quite a wondrous and special occasion, so I am sure this time will also be.”

Zekiel watched, noting that he had apparently barreled over several portions where the guard opened his mouth and almost spoke—but then never got a word out. He had the decency to at least try to look abashed, though the lingering bubble of anticipation and excitement for the trip ahead remained alive and well under his skin, and his expression stayed chipper despite his embarrassment.

“If I use too many words at once do tell me at any moment you please,” he said. “I’ve been told sometimes they get excited on my tongue and roll to quickly out so that I can’t always hear those of others when they might like to share. And if you’ve been meaning to visit, you should—there is always time and reason for the gods. Perhaps after we travel?”

Zekiel smiled. “And I trust you will do a wondrous job of that, though I don’t understand why Sister Irrella or any of them are concerned so about it. The added company, though, is pleasant and I am glad we’ll have you with us.”

Zekiel trailed after the guardsman when he moved, pausing before the door and then blinking when he mentioned his sister. “Is your sister with us? I might perhaps know her? I—oh, you needn’t if it troubles you, I can—” Zekiel glanced about. “Where are they having us store things?” He placed the stack of books immediately in his grip onto the first available seat cushion within the carriage, but after another moment’s puzzled glancing, did concede to shrugging his traveling satchel off his shoulder and holding it out for the other. “I assume you know better where. What was your name?”

Ze listened, watching the other closely as he spoke of his sister. “I am certain she would love to have your company again and mend what was damaged when you parted,” he said. “I—” He blinked, watching the other go. “Oh, you needn’t—” ‘…leave already.’

But then, no sooner had Jalase moved away then several of the others set to also be on the journey emerged from the Sanctum’s front entrance, descending the steps, and Zekiel supposed it was likely time, regardless. Thus, with a rekindling bud of excitement blooming anew in his chest, Zekiel stepped up and into the carriage. The trip took time, but otherwise was peacefully uneventful, and upon arrival, he spent the majority of the day traveling with Sister Irrella and working where she needed him. It was mid-evening, the sun sinking towards the edge of the horizon and the upper hemisphere dimming to deeper blues and lavenders by the time they made it back to their inn for the night.

Once instructed that he was free to roam for the evening — within reason and provided that he stay near to their lodgings — Zekiel took the open invitation to explore, wandering about the outer premises, but pausing when he found a familiar face inside the stables.

“Jalase!”

Oblivious of Jalase’s concern, brief as it was, and attention already elsewhere — flitting about the stable, from rung to rung overhead, to the hanging saddles and various other items the use of which Zekiel wasn’t familiar, to the stalls and beasts themselves—and finally back to Jalase. He blinked.

“Need…? Oh!” Zekiel shook his head quickly, loose curls of lavender flicking about like stray, springing tassels as he did. “No, I’ve done my duties for this day and the Sisters said I might wander about if I was of a mind to walk the place so long as my legs did not take me too far astray and I thought to myself I would like it very much so I am, what are you doing this evening? Did you enjoy your ride—? Oh, did you see much while upon your mount? I’ve never been permitted on one and the windows of the carriage were only so wide but I can imagine it must have been wondrous with no walls at all…”

“I haven’t been,” Zekiel said. “About, that is. Far from the Sanctum, that is. Though I saw some from the windows and that was quite exciting. There was even a bird, and a good many flowers I hadn’t seen before.”

Zekiel stepped in as he spoke, half bouncing on the balls of his feet with each step and eyes focusing now on the animals themselves. He’d never been near to them himself, though he had seen them before, pulling carts about, sometimes delivering the wealthier guests of the church to the Sanctum’s steps in carriages. He wondered, if he reached very slowly—

His attention immediately darted anew to Jalase, however, when the possibility of traveling about was mentioned, and in an instant, he was beaming.

“Oh, yes, I promise! Will we travel far? I’ll stay very near to you…” A thought crossed his mind, fleeting as a breeze, but enough to make his eyes dart to the weapon at the guardsman’s hip and back up to his face. “Will you use your sword?”

“Have you used it before?” Zekiel asked, moving to stand beside the guardsman, though his eyes flit back to the outside as he spoke. Evening was falling, but not fully upon them yet, and soon, sunset would paint the sky with color. “It’s so large it must be very heavy to carry about. I’ve never touched one, though I don’t think the gods made it my duty to, or they would have given me bigger arms. Yours are suited to it. And then perhaps it doesn’t feel so heavy to you—have you been a guardsman long? Did they pick you for it, like they do for the Sanctum?”

As the I hope not sank in more properly, Ze’s gaze moved back to the length of the blade—and the actual purpose of such an instrument, taken to the extreme.

“I do suppose being so large it would hurt a good deal if it needed to be used…” His fingers lifted to touch his own belly at the thought. “Does it—do they really make it to go through people?” Though he had seen first hand the effects of injury — blood, scars, lost limbs, open wounds, missing eyes — both in those seeking the direct aid of the church and in those upon medical cots where priests’ blessings were welcome, it was another thing entirely to actually imagine anyone inflicting such damage intentionally.