Aodh Plot 511: Prayer

Far before any others were awake, the Flamine went around the sanctum, collecting the ash from the shrines for today’s meeting. The sun was still tucked away, not even the first sign of sunrise showing. It was normal for Castiel to be awake at this time, sleep never came easily to the Flamen, their work more important than their sleep, but today they woke with less fatigue. Ignacio gave them his passion and fire in the night and that’s what fueled this rare energy.

After collecting the ash into a large bag, the Flamine took it into the Sanctum’s courtyard. There, Castiel laid it before the glass statue of Ignacio and began to pray over it, hoping to bless it before today’s meeting of the Flamines. As the sun began to paint the sky with its fire, the Flamen finished their ritual. As the sanctum helpers left their quarters to begin their duties, Castile bid each of them farewell, leaving the elder three in charge.

Castile sent for a chevalier as an escort- not that they thought needed one, but it was “safer with one about you, the king was assassinated, who’s to say you’re not next?” The Flamen sighed, here she was now. The two walked in silence, Castile leading and the chevalier and their flank, teke glowing around her sword hilt. Upon arrival at Fernos, Castiel bid her goodbye and walked into the sanctum.

“My fellow flamines,” Castiel called to them. As usual, Castiel was late, but only fashionably.”I apologize for my tardiness, but thank you for coming, and thank you, Lucerys, for hosting us. I’ve brought the ash, let me make a circle so we may begin.”

Tyrus knew that Aodh had much to fear, but he couldn't find within himself any of the terror that had wracked him months prior. The days and weeks following the Amadeus's death were the darkest in the flamen's memory. He'd started his tenure at the Ignis Sanctum with a royal funeral; in the two years since, he had buried two kings. It was a dark headline for his leadership, to be the one who burned monarchs, and despair had tempted him, however briefly.

King Isador was a shining light, though. He had stood at Tyrus's side as he blessed the funeral pyre, and his nobility and strength through the turmoil were perhaps just what Aodh needed. The symbolism of the great gold dragon bowing to him was not lost to anyone, and Tyrus least of all -- Ignacio seemed to be blessing his rule directly. The skirmish with the Serorans would be unpleasant, but Tyrus expected it would be a minor hurdle preceding decades of prosperity. Sad as it was to say, Amadeus had hardly been fit to rule. It wasn't his fault, Tyrus knew, Amadeus had been the unexpected recipient of the world's greatest burden, but Isador's experience would pave a new way for Aodh.

The future was shining. Tyrus couldn't find it in himself to look as mournful as the other gathered flamines.

He was dressed grandly, befitting his extravagant Sanctum's place near the palace. Tyrus wore a crown of sunflowers that represented his house, and pauldrons bristling with unlit candles over a mantle of embroidered silk. The garments were fastened with splendidly engraved gold bands, and a dragon-shaped brooch that represented the new king's magnificent companion. It was an overt show of support, one that Tyrus hoped would unify and heal their wounded city.

The lavish nature of his outfits often earned him the disapproving glances of his counterparts, but Tyrus couldn't care. The flamines existed to be the people's link to godliness; in a city of spectacle like Valore, it took some theatre to keep Ignacio magnificent.

He had been standing in amiable silence, looking princely as he listened to the polite conversation around him. He murmured a greeting as the last of the flamines joined the gathering, and stepped into his place at the circle. "I'll begin," he said with the gentle, assumed authority that characterized Nobility. He placed before them the prayer idol of Ignacio that would be the centerpiece of their ceremonial altar. It was a heavy artifact, carved out of gleaming red wood, scales of ivory and lapis stone inlaid into the finely polished surface. Bands of true gold decorated Ignacio's legs, and polished blue gemstones, resembling flames, tipped the carved antlers. It was an antique of breathtaking craftsmanship, every bit as expensive and excessive as one would expect.

Leave it to Tyrus to flaunt his congregation's generosity (and wealth) at any opportunity.

A serene but deliberate quietness emanated from the hosting Flamen. One might have easily assumed the marbled unicorn was in deep mourning, his opulent personality banked like the flames of Ignacio in the wake of tragedy, waiting to be sparked once more at the opportune moment.

Yet, beneath the still water and the gilded bridles and cloth, unease was the current beneath. The unseen turbulence that could sweep the unsuspecting equine down river. A crystalline hoof propped up as a sign of life, even now everything was an act. The tilt of his head as Castille approached, as Ulyssess and Tyrus joined their ethereal, godly gathering. A slight curl of the lip to Omar who acted as Ulysses' ominous shadow.

A deliberate spell that he weaved in and out of his very essence.

Long lashes fluttered at Castille's words, as if the fire had been sparked and Fernos' guardian came to life. "There is no need to apologize, dear Castille. As Ulysses stated, we have not waited long." He hummed in sing song tunes, delicate and gentle. Long waves of hair sliding over his crest to fall in luxurious waves down past his shoulders. "Fernos is honored to host such an event, and is deeply humbled and blessed to have all of Ignacio's scion's in her halls." Blue eyes having flicked around to each of their faces once more and then to the dragon scales he had reverently placed upon the altar.

Such magnificent creatures. The powder blue and crystalline clarity of the scales he had placed shimmered like ignacio's fire encased in crystal for all time. To think that they once more flew the skies of Enithe, Aodh's shining symbol given life, a rebirth.

Only Tyrus' thoughts broke him once more from his thoughts, his decorated head dipped in concession. "By your lead then, Tyrus."

As each Flamen lifted their voices to the Effigy, Lucerys allowed his eyes to drift up to the statues elegantly carved face. As if there might be an answer or guidance somewhere within the sculpted lines, or bejeweled gaze. As if at their prayer the great sculpture would come alive, and bestow them with wonder and wisdom beyond their comprehension.

How wonderful would that be?

The words sank deep into the marrow of his bones. Settling like a warm glow in his marrow, and sparking in his chest. The blessing of the soldiers whom marched to their war drums, spears lifted and hearts strong, their fires for their nation roaring bright Their warriors would be fierce and resplendent in their glitter armor, their unwavering war chants lifted to Ignacio to bless their blades.

Then there was the guidance of flame, a request to Ignacio to bless both them and those who stood opposite them. Bless them with understanding, to wash away their fears with the fires they loved so very much. Sapphire eyes lowered and switched to Ulysses, observing the soft glow that enveloped him in it's light as he continued.

"And for those who are left behind, and those that are lost in the darkness, burdened with choices they see no path to answering." He began next, his own hooves carrying him forward now toward the effigy, kneeling at the Fire God's base. "For those who must watch their beloveds march to war, and for those who stand beside the ones who make difficult decisions." He paused but briefly. "I pray for you to bless them with your light. A flame in their hearts of comfort, wisdom and warmth. An ember which will burn in the late hours of the night and comfort them, and be the guide to a better dawn."

The room's candlelight seems to fade before it grows, and grows, and grows, reaching for the vaulted ceiling as red flame becomes blinding azure, hotter than the wick would ever dare to undertake.

Undetected by mortal perception, the Starscape shivers as a denizen of its vast, unknowable expanse slips untroubled from the veil - and descends.
Ignacio steps into tangible existence as easily as he breathes, wearing mortality like a shroud. Towering, with burning nebulae masquerading for His eyes, the gods bows his crowned head to regard each Aodhian with a gaze that lingers like a physical touch.

Out of the starscape a blade is pulled into being, blacker than the inky sky of the fathomless abyss yet as the flames danced upon it, it swirled with color. Rich with hues of azure and midnight blue each time one glanced upon it from different angles, a seamless transition from one to the next, it is beautiful. Deadly. Glorious.

Lucerys can hear the change, the quiet song of flame crackling upon braziers was enriched now with a much more eloquent, otherworldly song — a song of steel and the echo of God.

He does not miss the blessing, and burden placed upon his chimeric shoulders. This is his Sanctum, his hallowed halls and his sanctuary. The blade has made its home here by Ignacio's will, waiting for one to be found worthy of wielding it. Yet, there is no time to ponder upon the future, the decisions and the meaning behind all of this. Ignacio moves, and his own flame colored eyes are drawn as one would to a flame.

Closer and closer, until they are one and the same. An inhale is all that is uttered from the Flamen, and then nothing. It's as if he has been plucked from his worldly flesh and thrust upon the canvas of creation, his essence entangled in the very ink and lifeblood of all that was, and ever will be. It's eternity, it's the sundering of mortality from something built on the foundations of it. Blood and time. A touch of the divine which simultaneously sparks a thirst that cannot be quenched, the desperate wish to climb higher and higher toward the light and a maddening descent of understanding. The burden of immortality, the grains of sand in the hour glass that mean everything to flickering heartbeats, but hollow to the one that gazes upon it. To love and create things which pass back into the ether, who will know death in a way you will not.

Their years a mere blink in comparison to the long walk of eons.

Then it's gone, the flower closes once more, pulling in the richness of its wisdom and it's great sadness back into itself. How he wants to grab onto more even if he knew he shouldn't. He plummets back into himself and releases a shuddering breath, hanging on by mere threads of his willpower to stay standing. It lasts but for a moment, the delicate thread snaps before the unicorn slumps toward the blessed cool of the marble floor.

Mortal he is, but he is one who for a moment, touched the very heavens. Became one and the same and back again. Is he one who will now howl? He cannot say as he tries to reorganize himself. Enough that he hears Ulysses' words, and white lashes flick and flutter over to him. "We must." He agrees softly, barely over the fires which still burn. "Until we have found them, it will stay here, where it can be protected." Too many would seek to obtain it for ill, he thinks to himself, but he's sure a flicker of his thoughts is readable across his features.