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Post by Zugunruhes on May 26, 2020 12:45:21 GMT -6
Eye of the Beholder
Winter 1702; Morning; Within Fernos Sanctum |
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Post by Zugunruhes on May 26, 2020 13:00:16 GMT -6
▸Kaspar◂
WC 273 | Post One
The completion of a highly anticipated mural brought warmth to an otherwise frigid morning within Fernos Sanctum. Visitors continued to ask attendants when one of the larger prayer rooms, commonly set aside for pit-fighters and champions, would open its doors to the public that day. Attendants were also curious, for Kaspar had not let any horse in since the artisan and their crafters had finished the piece the evening before. Their flamen promised all would see the sanctum's new triumph soon, after the visit of an important guest.
Kaspar stood alone in the prayer room, gazing at the mural in its full beauty- it was an intricate work of stone and painting. On each side of the room near the twin doors a stone mural began telling the stories of pit-fighters. As the stone traced along the walls it depicted the rise of two different pit fighters, interrupted only by a few smaller alcoves indented in the walls.
The stone mural ended on either side of the largest alcove in the center with the story finalized in a painting of the pit-fighters' match. The winner was bathed in golden sunlight, chosen for her devotion to their deity. Her opponent was shrouded in darkness as he fell. Above the painting, carved into the ceiling, observed a marble face of Ignacio that was visible from every part of the room. The sight was unforgettable and the emotional magnitude grounded Kaspar. He was silent for an hour as he studied the work with satisfaction. He cannot wait for his guest's arrival- who better than Flamen Moira to marvel at the art of their herd with him?
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Post by kajeayn on May 26, 2020 15:54:22 GMT -6
= M O I R A =
The fire finds a home in me.
WC: 363 | Post 1It has been a while, since she had paid a visit to Fernos.
It was a beautiful Sanctum, and she was appreciative of its art, of the massive statue that graced its halls- but she was also well aware of the patrons. She didn’t enjoy rubbing shoulders with pit fighters, sharing prayer with scarred, bitted slaves, grateful for the chance to ask for protection before going to the Crucible.
She didn’t like the Crucible much at all, really. She didn't come to this part of the city very often at all if she could avoid it.
But she had been invited, and it would be rude to say no. She was eager to foster a bond with all the other Flamines- and what better way than to admire a new work of art? She’d been flattered by the invitation to be the first to come see, and admittedly it was good for her ego to come here today, being treated like an honored guest.
It almost made the trip exciting, even as some of that fire cooled from the first pit fighter she encountered, bowing their head to her as she passed, her long furred cloak dragging on the ground behind her. Her candles burned at her back, marking her for all to see as one of Ignacio’s chosen, and here she almost wished she hadn’t worn them. Let her pass unseen, unnoticed by the slaves, let them not see her as one high above them.
But she wore no bit, and that alone set her leagues above.
An attendant graciously led her to the prayer room, opening the door for her and ducking their head politely to her murmured thanks as she stepped past.
It really was a beautiful prayer room. It opened up wide before her, her eyes immediately drawn to the marble carving of Ignacio, watching her the moment she entered the room.
Her eyes flickered down, catching sight of the one who had invited her here, their back to her.
“The Sun shines on you, my friend.” She greeted warmly, a small smile on her mouth as she approached, glancing curiously towards the mural Kaspar admired, her ears pricked.
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Post by Zugunruhes on Jun 10, 2020 10:51:47 GMT -6
▸Kaspar◂
WC 277 | Post Two
Legacy ringed the walls of the prayer room, a legacy now bound in stone so that all visitors had to attend to it. Kaspar looked upon the mural with deep satisfaction - the story was that of two pit-fighters, but any Valorian could find themselves within it, he mused. The story was simple, of finding Ignacio's light and accepting his grace.
The doors opened and the quiet touch of wood on marble floors roused him from his silence. He turned, a bright smile lighting his features at the sight of the other flamen. There was no mistake the delight in his expression at her presence. For him the city could not see the new mural until the flamen who weaved art and Ignacio's teachings looked upon it with her keen eyes.
"Moira! I'm so pleased that you're here! And thank you for attending what heralds a new morning for Fernos." He closed the distance between them and then turned towards the beginnings of the mural at one side of the door, beckoning her to join him with his finned tail. "I've been rather greedy today, I admit, guarding views to this mural by myself. But! I did not want any other to see it until you came. I've always admired how Ignacio comes to life through the artwork of Azar. I admit I was inspired when I had this mural commissioned for the room."
Kaspar turned and regarded the mural's start with a contented sigh. "I can tell you all about it if you like, or you can peruse the story for yourself?" The flamen was eager, clearly hanging onto whatever Moira would say about the new work.
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Post by kajeayn on Jun 11, 2020 5:48:19 GMT -6
= M O I R A =
The fire finds a home in me.
WC: 507 | Post 2Kaspar’s genuine enthusiasm was a delight to behold, and her eyes crinkled, regarding him as he greeted her eagerly. His energy was infectious, blazing in her like a warm fire as she listened to his excited explanation, flattered by the praise he rained upon her and her Sanctum.
She was proud of Azar. It was her life, now- it had been for years, but now it was official. It came with all sorts of burdens, but a fierce pride as well. Moira and Azar were tied, now. People could not think of one without thinking of the other. It filled her with warmth and fear all at once- she could not let the Sanctum- or her god- down.
“You do me great honor, Kaspar.” She chuckled, dropping the title as he had for her. She appreciated it, feeling immediately closer to the other Flamen. There was no reason for titles and grand names here behind closed doors. Just two of Ignacio’s children, here to admire art together.
She finally let her eyes drift past him as he turned, lifting her head as she prepared to drink in the glory of Ignacio with him.
His voice continued, sounding muffled to her suddenly ringing ears. She was dimly aware that he was still talking, her eyes slowly widening as she began to take in the story unfolding in stone and paint before her.
She recognized the symbolism denoting two Pit Fighters at once, the familiar signs of the Crucible engraved into the mural. Great skill had been used to render scenes of violence, of blood and broken bodies, of bitted slaves pitted against each other for the amusement of the eager crowd.
It was beautiful. It was horrific.
It was everything Fernos was.
And above them all, Ignacio’s image gazed at the mural. His children depicted in battle against each other, tearing each other to pieces.
She felt suddenly ill, throat clicking as she swallowed dryly.
“It’s breathtaking.” She said after a pause, clearing her throat delicately. Her eyes had not left it, lingering on artistic depictions of bloodied slaves. “You chose your artist well. They’re clearly incredibly skilled.” It was easier to speak about the technique, the artist, then the story before her eyes. She lifted her muzzle, gesturing to some of the more intricate designs. “The rendering here is very difficult to do well. It takes a delicate touch.” Her mouth turned up in a smile as she turned to look at Kaspar, but it did not touch her eyes.
“I would love to hear your words on the story, Kaspar. It’s always wonderful to hear the commissioner’s passion for the art.”
She didn’t know if she could bear to explain what story she saw here. She was fumbling, trying to think of words more commonly used in polite society for what she was looking at. Horrific would not be used. Brutal, gruesome, nauseating. She struggled to come up with something positive about the story itself. Every word coming to her mind would not go over well. |
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Post by Zugunruhes on Jun 16, 2020 0:42:19 GMT -6
▸Kaspar◂
WC 415 | Post Three
There was no deceit in his expressions nor affected gestures as he looked from the mural back to Moira. A genuine excitement, almost boyish, danced across the young flamen's features as he regarded the mural. Even as his eyes passed over images of horses set in stone, cutting one another down with hooves, teeth, and weapons under a faceless crowd joy reflected back upon him. As though the mural gave off light like flames. A wildfire perhaps was more apt.
He followed her closer to the mural, expression setting as he resolved to drink in every word. She was a master artist- her words carried great respect- and the mural's success was in part bound to its artistry. Her immediate praise confirmed his thoughts and he celebrated internally without noticing the look in her eyes that belied her smile. "Oh yes- I needed viewers to feel as though they are a part of the story- so the artists focused on the details of the background. The city comes to life through the intricacy. Fascinating, isn't it?"
And when given the opportunity to voice his thoughts on the mural he agreed without hesitation. He had been waiting for it, eager to explain his thoughts to another devout to Ignacio. "Champions and pit-fighters often visit this room. Fernos is tied to the Crucible, intricately. Many flock here before or after matches. In the beginning, mare on the left wall prays to Ignacio."
He approached the wall and gestured with a nod of his head, a smile playing upon his lips as he indicates the minute details. The pit-fighter mare is praying in a tiny stone version of the room Kaspar and Moira are standing in. "She recognizes that He cherishes any who open their hearts to him. As her journey continues, as she rises in glory, so rises Ignacio's sun behind her." And within the mural, in each new scene of the mare fighting, a decorative sun climbed higher in the sky.
In the center of the mural the sun shone behind the mare with rays emanating from all directions, blinding her opponent who cannot face the light's brilliance. "The painting is of The Crowning Day- the match where one pit fighter rises above their competitors. Is recognized as a citizen of Aodh. Above her Ignacio watches, observant of her devotion." Silence stretched for a moment before the hippocampus turned away from the mural once more, eyes alight. "Do you understand? Do you see what I see?"
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Post by kajeayn on Jun 18, 2020 20:07:26 GMT -6
= M O I R A =
The fire finds a home in me.
WC: 462 | Post 3
A lifetime ago, she would have seen exactly what he saw.
She would have cherished this work of art, marveled at the triumphant story of Ignacio’s child, the blood and tears and battle. She could follow the events Kaspar described easily- the slave at the altar- begging for protection- her journey as the sun rose ever higher on her, and set on those who fell at her feet.
Ignacio smiling above it all, cherishing the mare standing victorious above scores of her kin, dead. And for her reward, to finally be recognized as a true citizen.
She thought of the last winner. She remembered the fight, how gruesome and horrific and enthralling it had been to the crowd. She’d felt ill, watching recently fallen bodies rise from the ground, empty eyed as they turned back into the fight.
She’d reached out to the winner- Sinead, she thought her name was?- exactly once, a few years ago. She’d seen her at the Pearl. She didn’t know what she’d thought she would say, really, but she’d been compelled to try to say something (an apology? For what? For being born free when Sinead had had to kill for it?) The mare had, rightfully, nearly thrown her bodily out of the Pearl.
She couldn’t blame her.
Moira found herself wondering what the sight of this mural would do to someone like that, so twisted and scarred and broken from the very thing this artwork depicted.
Gazing at it now, she felt the same nauseating roll of her stomach she’d felt the day of the Crowning Day fight.
Even now, Kaspar put it into words without noticing. Observant of her devotion. And what reward did the mare earn for her devotion? Life, at the cost of others? A freedom, yet still without equality?
“It truly does feel as if I’m there,” She replied, and at least that was honest. She could smell iron, taste dust in the back of her throat. “I may have to steal this artist from you.” She gave Kaspar a soft smile, eyes still blank. “The fighters who come through here will certainly appreciate the attention to detail.” What would a champion see, gazing at broken bodies? “I imagine Ignacio’s image here will give comfort to those seeking it here at Fernos.” She could hope for that. Or maybe they would only see what the embittered no doubt saw- an uncaring god, watching dispassionately as slaves bled and fought for approval they would not live to see.
She turned towards him, smiling as she met his gaze.
I cannot see what you see. I never will again.
“Of course I do,” She let out a soft laugh. “It’s a truly excellent piece, Kaspar. I’m honored to be the first to see it.”
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Post by Zugunruhes on Jun 29, 2020 18:43:39 GMT -6
▸Kaspar◂
WC 259 | Post Four
The smile grew ever brighter across as the flamen's youthful face at her praise- at words- that she was honored to see it before any other visitor. "And as I am sure you know and appreciate, as art this can be interpreted in many different ways by each viewer. The pit-fighters, champions, and citizens who enter this room will all leave with their own understanding and Ignacio's eyes upon them." He turned then and gazed upon the marble visage of the kirin god unblinkingly.
"I was worried about this for a long time before it came together." Kaspar's voice faded to a whisper, their expression elsewhere. "Would it match my vision? Would others see what I see? Yes... under Ignacio there is a commonality- I just wish for everyone to see it."
The horse that looks over their shoulder to regard Moira is no longer smiling as something else- uncertainty- rests heavily on their features. "Moira, do you ever find yourself withered by desire - unsatiated despite your efforts - because so many of Ignacio's children are weary and sad? Now, more than ever, our people need to remember his love for us. But after the old kirins laid siege to-" His voice faltered as his eyes widened from a memory.
A silence stretched between them and the flamen amended it with a hasty smile that did not reach his eyes. "Our peoples' faith is shaken. All I want is to find ways to unify our people, and I hope I am taking the right step with my choices for Fernos."
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Post by kajeayn on Dec 31, 2020 0:34:19 GMT -6
= M O I R A =
The fire finds a home in me.
WC: 504 | Post 4As the younger Flamen spoke earnestly, his eyes wide and honest, she felt her face softening.
She saw the fear and uncertainty on his face as clearly as if he had painted it on. He was a grown man, with just as much responsibility and power as she did, but he looked so young, in that moment. So full of hope, and fear. She felt her shoulders lower, giving him a small, reassuring smile as she took a slow step closer to him.
Gently, she laid her head over his neck, a soft embrace, leaning lightly against him.
“Your heart is vast, Kaspar.” She said quietly. “It tries to hold the whole world. But we are not gods- we cannot love like that. It will tear us apart.” She nuzzled his neck before pulling back, gazing at him with a small, sad smile. A smile that knew that pain well.
“You wish to ease the burdens of all under the Smouldering Sun, and that is an admirable thing. But one that will bring you great pain, as well as great strength.” She touched her muzzle lightly to his forehead.
“Each step you take for Fernos is your step, and that is what will matter most. If you remain true to your path, to yourself, you will shine bright enough for others to see. We will bask in your light, and take heart.” She smiled at him, her eyes crinkling. “We will find faith in your leadership. You are a beacon, the flame weary hearts are drawn to.” She said, stepping back to gesture with her blue and gold teke to the gaze of Ignacio in the mural, and the light that shone down from him on the victor.
She gazed at it, and tried to keep her eyes from trailing down, to the triumphant pit fighter standing proud, then the opponent cast into shadow. Her eyes stayed on Ignacio’s.
“I grow weary, often.” She said softly, her smile beginning to fade. A cloud seemed to pass over her face, staring blankly up at the mural. The corners of her eyes tightened. “I grow angry. Frustrated, that I am not able to aid more. That I cannot set myself aflame to keep them warm.” She stared at the mural, then turned to gaze at Kaspar again, her face drawn. Sad.
“But I must content myself with the reach I do have, the help I may offer. I hope I, too, am a beacon. That others may see me and be inspired, and they may reach out to others. We are pebbles, thrown into a still pond. Our ripples reach beyond what we know.” She smiled again, tiredly, shared pain bright in her eyes.
“And we must remember we are not alone. When we grow weary under that weight, we must reach out to each other. My door will always be open to you, my friend.” Her eyes slid past him, staring out into the middle distance.
“In these times, friends are a powerful boon, indeed.”
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Post by Zugunruhes on Jan 15, 2021 15:47:24 GMT -6
▸Kaspar◂
WC 302 | Post Five
Her touch was unexpected, but it suffused a warmth between them that shared the glow of the candles circling the room. As flamines they gave so much and though they received prestige and respect for it, that was not the same as a gentle embrace or a word of reassurance. In that moment Kaspar realized how much he had longed for that of the late, and when they broke apart and Moira spoke to him his eyes were glistening. His cheeks wet with a soft trail.
He took a moment to gather himself, brushing at his face with the hem of his cloak. "You speak of these matters so beautifully, Moira. I am at fault for not visiting Azar sooner to listen to your sermons and walk among the art. I understand there is much I can learn from you."
He followed her gaze to Ignacio, offering a silent word to the god for bringing wisdom and solace in so many shapes. "We did receive our appointments in tumultuous times. My first month I was exuberant with the cheer of a new attendant, believing I could attend to everything. But a part of being flamen is to carry the burdens of others. They never leave me- so many of the prayers I have heard. And what that makes us feel- frustrated or despondent- those emotions were originally born of compassion. When we understand that we can do more with what we have."
He dipped his head once, a sign of respect for her counsel, then met her gaze evenly. "Fernos always welcomes your presence and wisdom. And I, not just as a flamen, but as Kaspar too, cherish your company. We should meet again, and discuss how we can use what we have to better unite Azar and Fernos for the people."
Image by Kruuja
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