|
|
Post by fallenraen on Oct 4, 2017 20:58:22 GMT -6
Guiding Lights
Featuring Ulysses and Phoebe
Setting: Vatros Sanctum in Valore, Eithne. Evening
Time period: Following chapter IV
|
|
|
|
Post by fallenraen on Oct 4, 2017 21:05:40 GMT -6
 Phoebe
For we are the light in the darkness, shining down the path He’d yet to come back.
Following the disappearance of her close friend, Axenus, Phoebe had waited for him to return. Every day when she woke up, looking for him. Every night when she stayed up for as long as she could before sleep claimed her and lowered her tired eyelids. There wasn’t the knowing of if he would really ever return, the Vindicators having taken him that left her unsure of the group they’d once discussed of joining to help free others, but still she continued to. The girl clung to hope just as much as she tried to give it to others.
With his disappearance had come evenings where the labor slave had had not much else to do besides travel to the sanctum she was expected to return from every night back to the barracks she then slept in with the other labor slaves trusted to work closely with the Chevaliers. She’d turned to prayer more, slowly opening to the daily visitors of the sanctum day by day. She smiled a little more, spoke a bit which some might have seen as a surprise from the shy girl. From being alone, having very few friends left in the city then with her best friend missing, she’d found a couple to occasionally converse with. It was nice in the sanctum, its once cold floors feeling what she guessed could be close to a home.
It was welcoming, that much was true. After being blessed by Ignacio in its very walls, she could swear the candles took on a warmer glow. She finally had somewhere to go to, somewhere she could feel safe, that wasn’t by the sides of her friends clinging to their presence. It was a nice feeling.
She let it wash over her, kneeling in front of the statue of Ignacio with her eyes closed, before she risen to her hooves, a roaming light catching her eye. The sanctum’s very own Flamen, Ulysses, was a familiar face to her. They didn’t speak much, she never really got past her bashful smiles and the respectful dip of her head before she was scurrying off, but he was almost always there. Her blue gaze wandered curiously around, briefly wondering where his slave, Omar, was. They had all spoken once before the statue of Ignacio she stood in front of, discussing freeing the slaves.
Would Ignacio have been proud of them if they had?
She glanced up at the statue, wondering if he was looking upon those there right then, remembering his words: she was a light for all his children unjustly chained. She wasn’t the only one, however. Her gaze found its way back to Ulysses, the girl pausing, before she dared to take a step over towards him where she dipped her head. “Ex-excuse me, sir, Ulysses… Might I have, um, a moment of your time?” she asked, peeking up, unsure if then was a good time or not to bother the surely busy Flamen.
Post count: #1 | Word count: 497
|
|
|
|
Post by ThatDenver on Oct 5, 2017 10:34:22 GMT -6
ULYSSES
The worst had settled, it seemed. Although the death of the young King had been a shock – even if not totally unexpected and few genuinely mourned the poor young boy – the dragon had been a bigger one, and the destruction it had left in its wake left the city with rebuilding efforts. Once again. It seemed that all Aodh really did was rebuild, take what was destroyed and put it back like it was, or make it even more beautiful in the progress.
Perhaps if they instead aspired to learn from the destruction, think about why this kept happening to them, they wouldn’t need to always rebuild.
Then again, perhaps it was not entirely reasonable to expect a dragon to care about whether or not the society it was burning to the ground had slaves or not. Dragons certainly were a force of nature, rather than an agent of equine morals.
Ulysses found great comfort in his work. It remained a constant, something he could rely on to not change too much. There were always people who needed him, whether it be for the physical needs of food, shelter, warmth and medical aid, or those of a more spiritual kind. Ulysses was happy to provide. It was what he was here for, it was what kept him sane. That, and his unwavering faith in Ignacio, whose will he tried his best to bring flesh.
But he was just one man.
It was a relatively quiet evening in Vatros. As there were only a few other equines around, he felt free to let his blessing express itself. The small balls of light orbited lazily around him, as they often did when he was not paying it too much attention, and was content enough. His mind wandered, and sometimes flickers of thoughts made one orb zoom across the Sanctum, to disappear and another one take its place.
He had been spending some time in the study of his newfound blessing. It was a common enough one, well researched and documented. Ulysses had always loved reading about things, but practice was still needed. Having this blessing had made him truly appreciate the many properties of light, one of the creations of his Lord. Light could bring hope; it could shelter from the things that lurked in the darkness, and it could guide.
But light, it could also blind, burn and confuse. Such he supposed was the dual nature of Ignacio. A power of destruction as much as that of creation and new life, like the fire that was his main element.
From midst his cleaning of Alya’s small statuette, he noted that one of the slaves who had recently begun visiting more frequently was looking at him. Phoebe was her name – she had been there the day the dragon came. Ulysses made a point of trying to remember any names that were shared with him, as he was afraid there would be no one else to remember them if he did not.
The Flamen nodded his head as a silent hello, but was surprised to see the girl actually approach him. From what he had observed, and from what he could gather from their only real meeting, Phoebe was something of a shy character. A good trait for a labor slave, as not drawing attention certainly saved you a lot of grief in the end.
When she dipped her head, Ulysses nodded his in a similar gesture, and smiled his usual, gentle smile.
“Of course, Phoebe. What is on your mind?” he replied without hesitation, turning more towards the young mare. In truth he wasn’t that busy right now to begin with, seeing as it was a quiet night.
The god idols didn’t really need to be personally dusted by the Flamen every night.
Word count: 631
Post #1
|
|
|
|
Post by fallenraen on Oct 6, 2017 1:24:47 GMT -6
Phoebe
For we are the light in the darkness, shining down the path She could trust him, couldn’t she? It wasn’t difficult to tell how hesitant she’d been too approach, how unsure she was to speak with the Flamen as before she’d said his name or had caught his eye by accident he’d been dusting the statues. Her ears angled back, her gaze having difficulty meeting his gaze even when he’d dipped his head back to her and had smiled.
The statue of Alya. It held her attention for a moment while he responded to her, Phoebe almost surprised he’d remembered her name when they’d only formally spoken once the day the city had almost crumbled (or burned) to its knees. She wondered if the goddess was there, appreciating the same rare attention she herself had from the devoted Flamen. The many people of Aodh did not come to pray before her statue, she’d noticed during what times she’d visited.
Clearing her throat softly, fearing getting distracted and wrapped up in her own thoughts, the girl brought her gaze back up to the Flamen before shifting from side to side, almost shuffling her hooves as her gaze suddenly fell down to them. “W-well… I, um… I couldn’t help but notice your… lights that float around you. I didn’t really want to bother you either, Flamen, yet I was wondering - I was hoping to have -” she cut off again, struggling with her wording as she stumbled over her words before she shook her head and stole a glance back up to him. “I was - I was hoping you might… help me too.” Help her too? That made almost no sense.
She stifled a sigh, it rising up in her chest to her own inability to speak or ask what she wanted to properly and exasperated at her own phrasing, before she looked sheepishly off. “I haven’t told anyone yet… but Ignacio also blessed me with light… and I don’t - I don’t have anyone to teach me how to use it. I can’t use it often either, so while - while it grows stronger it also just… gets out of my control during what few times I’m allowed my bridle off.” Which wasn’t many. Through the aid of Axenus, she’d gained the trust of the Chevaliers. With that had come more privileges, though her bridle did often have to remain however harmless of a blessing she seemed to have.
What could gentle, warm glowing orbs do to harm anyone? Phoebe had never protested, never whined, as she’d only accepted the wills of others. If she was to wear a bridle for the rest of her life while she remained in Aodh, aside from the few times it was allowed off such as in the sanctum or during those three days a few times a year, then so be it.
“Would you - would you mind then?” she finally finished her request, getting to the point of it all as her gaze flickered back up to his own. “I - I mean I understand if you’re busy… or if another time or even another person would be better to ask… I just - I just thought… I thought you were safe to.” She thought she could trust him. He was safe to talk to, wasn’t he? There were no secrets that he would spill, she hoped. Maybe they were safe with him.
Post count: #2 | Word count: 552
|
|
|
|
Post by ThatDenver on Oct 9, 2017 12:08:53 GMT -6
ULYSSES
Ulysses wondered, somewhat absently, about Phoebe’s shyness as she struggled to get her point across. What had happened to her to make her so, or was it simply a natural trait of hers, perhaps amplified through many years of unfair servitude? He was sure a labor slave would have no shortage of reasons to be careful with their words, yet few were shy quite in this manner. Secretive and careful, yes, but many still spoke eagerly to anyone who would take a moment to listen, as if their tongues were yearning to be loosened from the lack of use.
Phoebe’s difficulty at expressing herself strengthened the innocent, girlish vibe created by her appearances. She was like a petal, soft and easy to destroy, and all the more precious for it.
Ulysses had learned in his time that preciousness was not always highly valued by Aodh, not unless it was glimmering stones and gold.
As Phoebe progressed through her speech, Ulysses’ smile brightened from merely polite and friendly to genuine and even affectionate. He was always happy to hear about people being blessed, naturally even more so if it came to pass within his Sanctum, which he so dearly loved.
“That is wonderful news. Congratulations”, he said, and then added with no hesitation: “I would be happy to help you with it.”
He could understand the frustration of not being able to use the blessing, even if he had never experienced it himself. Ulysses had spoken to many slaves after all, including prized pit fighters and serviles, and they often spoke of their stifled blessings, only allowed to be in use when their master saw it fit. Private, away from prying eyes. For a labor slave, chances to use such blessings must have been even less common, as the chevaliers would hardly want the subjugated to use any manner of magical power against them.
The fact that Phoebe hardly seemed the type to attack anyone, with magic or otherwise, seemed inconsequential. Safety often demanded sacrifice, and in Aodh, it was easiest to take those sacrifices from the weak.
“I’m not that busy. Not at this late hour anyway. It is no trouble at all, Phoebe. I am here to help, after all”, Ulysses tried to put her fears of rejection to rest. He was indeed happy to help, and not merely because he had been asked, but also because the use of this blessing genuinely interested him, and since it was something they shared, it seemed most natural to work together in discovering what they could do with it.
But first, there was something he wanted to ask. He had collected these… Encounters, as they might be called, in his mind. Starting with Bale, really, but afterwards he had reached out to more. His own was, of course, the one most vivid in his memory, but the different experiences were truly all he had to work out what Ignacio wanted, and he would construct the god’s will out of these accounts.
“If I may ask – and I know it is quite private – what did Ignacio say to you?” he asked, carefully polite and avoiding any pushiness in his voice. He did not wish to scare Phoebe off, but he also felt that he needed to know.
Word count: 545
Post #2
|
|
|
|
Post by fallenraen on Oct 15, 2017 20:31:12 GMT -6
Phoebe
For we are the light in the darkness, shining down the path Congratulations
She was surprised by the words, her ears flicking to catch them before her face warmed and she ducked her head a little. She had never thought receiving a blessing from a god would be something to be congratulated for… She had done nothing more than pray, an activity she had become admittedly more invested in when asking both Ignacio as well as Cascade to watch over her friend and the city to keep all of them safe. “T-thank you…” she murmured, absently toeing the floor with one of her hooves before she glanced back up to the Flamen.
He would be happy to help. The rush of relief at the words was difficult to hide for the younger girl, the way her shoulders relaxed and even a smile threatened to curl at the corner of her lips. It felt as though her heart had lightened a little, no longer weighed down by the burden of guilt for bothering him as he had dusted the statues. Would the gods mind if she stole his attention away from their shrines for the time being before she had to return to the barracks? What a few more hours without dusting offend them? She hoped not, daring to smile. She didn’t often find too many others there nor happy to help.
Axenus had, admittedly, been one of the few. She hadn’t gone up to him the way she had Ulysses, no, though he’d come to her rescue and had continued to time and time again. Jenko too with throwing caution to the wind, always there if she needed him or there to pick her (literally) up. She’d witnessed kindness first hand in a city that was made, to some, through struggling, though it was always refreshing to see another caring soul. She was glad to find some trust in the Flamen.
What had Ignacio said to her, then, was a question of his own. Was she allowed to share that of the Lord’s word? Not for the first time in their conversation had Phoebe looked uncertain, ears angling back with a glance stolen to the statue she’d wandered from, before her gaze found its way back to the Flamen before her. She could trust him, she told herself. They had the same blessing, after all, and she wondered if Ignacio had told Ulysses what he had told her. Were they both lights to guide others, the slaves especially, from their unjust chains? There was hesitance, a pause at the war inside her, before she gave in, stepping a tentative step forward.
“Our Lord Ignacio… he told me he saw a light in me,” she admitted to the Flamen, her voice soft as she recalled the words the god had spoken to her in that very place. She closed her eyes, picturing the day over again. “He offered me to be that light to those… to those unjustly chained,” she told him, opening her eyes to again meet those of Ulysses, “to be a - a beacon of goodness and love. He also offered a shield to protect my heart… but I wanted to help others. I wanted - I wanted to help those like me.” Slaves.
She remembered he had too, hadn’t he? Had he changed his mind since they’d met that day the dragon had become loose on the town, the day supposedly Axenus was stolen away as well? Since the young king’s passing, many things had happened. She wondered if Ulysses changing his mind had been one of them, but she wasn’t afraid to admit that she wanted to help those like her. Many slaves could say the same thing and their words held no power, no meaning, to those above them. She shifted from side to side, an ear flicking. “Can I… may I ask if he said something to you before we start practicing?” Of course he, Ignacio, would have undoubtedly spoken to the Flamen, yet she was unsure if it was out of line to ask and dipped her gaze down in case that it was.
Post count: #3 | Word count: 677
|
|
|
|
Post by ThatDenver on Nov 17, 2017 0:18:59 GMT -6
ULYSSES
Ulysses had not expected embarrassment at his words. He did not quite understand the reaction, although he wanted to. Understanding was a big part of his job, a constant part. It was an eternal learning process, for everyone was different, special in a way, in how they viewed the world, and that in turn affected how their emotions were. Each person was like a puzzle, a beautiful puzzle.
Yet this puzzle was not free to be what they wanted to be, and it made him sad.
In the silence that followed, he pondered on what life must be like for a labor slave. Ulysses did not come from the best of homes, as far as wealth was concerned, and he was not used to luxury. In fact, even in his fairly humble lodging as a Flamen – where the greatest material wealth he had was books, tomes and various writing instruments – he saw far more luxury than what he had grown up with. Yet even then, he knew it was nothing compared to how the labor slaves were forced to live. Phoebe was better cared for than most – it showed in her body, fairly free of pain, and in her looks. She was young and still full of life, unlike many others.
Ulysses cut his musings short when Phoebe answered his question. He listened, intently. It was quite well in line with what he himself had heard, and what Bale had shared of his magnificent experience. Just Bale turning into a kirin itself was quite a display of what the god might be thinking and feeling, as surely that was not an accidental pick. Many saw their lord as an unjust force, but Ulysses had always seen good in him, and sometimes, only the good. He trusted the god in everything, and because his own beliefs saw slavery as unjust and ultimately, amoral, he had no difficulty accepting this stance from Ignacio either.
Phoebe, on the other hand, seemed a little careful about putting this meeting into words. Not making it too explicit, avoiding any form of word that might be seen as rude or suggestive of blame towards the Flamen.
“Someone I respect greatly recently told me that Ignacio had spoken to him, and told him that he was to shepherd the light. He too wishes to help others”, Ulysses shared, smiling faintly as he added: “It is a noble goal. Yours is a noble goal. Not an easy one, but Ignacio does not set up those who follow him to fail.”
There was another silence, a shorter one, before Phoebe asked her own question. It was a fair one, expected even, although a first for him. Ulysses was often the one curious about what the gods had said, but rarely did anyone ask back. He took a moment to think back to his short but memorable meeting with Ignacio. What resonated strongest was still the warning, although his fears had been greatly subdued by the appearance of a kirin in the form of someone he trusted.
“Yes, yes he did”, the Flamen replied after a while, still thoughtful.
“I was given… A warning, of sorts. Of dangerous times ahead, blood in the streets. A rebellion. No time, only the place, here. Well, not in this Sanctum, exactly, but you understand”, he went on furrowing his brow. It was not a particularly pleasant memory, but one he had to keep close, to shine and polish so it would not be forgotten. He wanted to be ready, even if violence was entirely against his nature.
“But he also told me that I was to inherit his light. Ignacio spoke of love”, Ulysses said, and after looking around in the empty Sanctum, he softly added: “And love does not know captivity or chains. Love yearns freedom, both of mind and body. This much I know.”
He looked at Phoebe, and added, even more quietly: “I have not forgotten my promise. But I will not let Vatros fall again, like it did years ago.”
Word count:
Post #3
OOC: So sorry for the super extended wait! My rp muse has not been all there lately.
|
|
