[Temple of All Gods] A Window To The Past

[Malia]

Timestamp: third Day in Summer, 509 AV

Malia slowly started getting fond of the idea of worshiping a god. Her Master had taught her everything he knew about the Pantheon, especially Tanroa, Goddess of Time. Time … it seemed like an insignificant threat to their people, because they didn't belong to the time known by the living, instead they existed outside of it, in a different reality that looked similar but wasn't if one gave a closer look. So why time? Perhaps just because of that simple fact: Tanroa had been the one, She had graced the Nuit with the present of immortality, of watching cities and whole nations rise and fall. Shouldn't Malia be grateful?

Not that she herself had experienced as much as her age would possibly depict. No, she had been born in seemingly peaceful times, had been made Nuit in her early years, had felt utterly lost and hopeless in a world that wasn't hers anymore, but still quiet and simple. Still she clinged to her very undead existence, hoping to experience the difference, to learn and study about that foreign world she was wandering in, to eventually understand its sense as time was passing by. Why did Mizahar exist? Why did Nuit exist?

Perhaps nobody could give answers to her questions. But Malia didn't care. More important was that she continued searching, learning and keeping herself busy. Because she didn't want to lose herself again, in the utter darkness of her undead soul …

Guiding her, giving her solace, her belief in Tanroa grew with every step and every thought she made. As a creature that existed without a need to eat, drink or sleep Malia mostly spent her time with thinking. Musing, wondering. Sometimes she felt entirely hopeless and depressive, but Tanroa had always been with her. Malia had started feeling her presence, and it didn't matter if it was the Goddess Herself or just her own pathetic imagination, more important was that she wasn't alone. Very important.

So one of the first places she visited – after arriving in Syliras and inspecting her house – was the Temple of All Gods. Perhaps someone could help her with finding the answers she needed. It didn't matter if priests or Gods replied to her. All she needed was someone, anyone, any voice speaking to her, any being lending her a hand …

Malia walked into the temple, searching for someone she could speak to: A pale, skinny and haunted creature with long, black hair and bags under her dark eyes, dressed in a journeyman's dirty clothes. Would she discover the presence of another being, someone she could ask, someone she could share her thoughts with?

[Gossamer]

Malia

Glav watched with avid curiosity as the creature slipped into the Temple and walked with a purposeful step. There was a presence about her, a look, that gave him insight as to what she truly was. The gaunt form, the dark circles... all of it clued him in to the fact that she was an observer, a denizen outside of time that moved through the pathways of the dead to course among the living and yet not ever truly be part of them. There were a few things about her he highly disapproved of. For one, she was filthy. Glav had always decided if he had an eternity of moving through life, he'd decidedly spend part of that time cleaning - either himself or things around him. It was part of the reason the Temple of All Gods gleamed as it did. Glav was fastidious. And while he was no expert on the Nuit - having no idea they moved through life changing bodies (he'd only known one after all, and that one had always seemed to look the same) he figured they should at least spend some time on appearance.

He walked to an enormous side closet and opened the doors to peer in. The Keeper of the Temple was often involved in charity, and because Syliras itself was full of widows (many many dead Syliran Knights kept them plentiful), he had eventually organized the city gossip mongers to do something constructive with their time rather than gossip. His efforts resulted in a project that involved helping the community. Glav plucked a basket off the shelf, added a few items into it, and then selected a beautiful violet bundle of fabric embroidered with orchids off a top shelf and folded it carefully, placing it over the other items in the basket. The violet fabric had something else - or a couple things bundled within it ... he left them together, then turned to greet the newcomer.

He was cautious, armed with a basket, but made his footsteps quiet and confident as he walked towards the woman.

"Greetings. I haven't seen you in the Temple before. I'm Glav Navik, its caretaker. Please be welcome here. Feel free to take a seat and reflect a while if you'd like too. There's also a small alcove off the rectory exit that is very suitable for conversation if you've come with the need to talk to someone." He said gently. Glav was a patient man. He'd not get right to the point about the basket before he'd heard why the creature was there.

[Malia]

Suddenly, while she was walking through the benches, admiring the beautiful architecture, a man approached her. The way he walked, the way he looked at her made her assume that he was the keeper of this temple. He was armed with a basket, perhaps on his way to the market, buying or selling things. Malia had always wondered what priests actually did for a living. Did the followers of their gods care for them? Were the gods themselves responsible for them? Neither possibility seemed perfectly reasonable, so she just pushed the thought aside for the moment.

Appreciating his politeness and ignoring the tint of suspicion and mistrust, she nodded slowly to return his greeting. „Greetings too.“ Her voice was low, quiet, yet echoing through the whole huge building. Disturbing the silence she was seeking.

So she had been right, he was the keeper. Malia caught herself considering his body, inspecting it like any ordinary person would look at a bowl of apples to pick the freshest and tastiest one. It was simply natural to her, since stolen bodies were the main source of her human-like existence. However, his body didn't please her. Too old, too crumpled. On top of that, she preferred female bodes. Why was she even considering his anyway?

Noticing that her thoughts were trapping her, preventing her from acting like a living being would, she cleared her throat and responded: „Thank you for the kind welcome and the information.“ Her manner of speech was not particularly unusual, but still slightly more pronounced, carefully shaped before released into the air to be heard. Every word seemed to carry some value. Malia didn't spend her infinite amount of time with useless words.

So what should she do next? A part of her still longed for talking to Glav Navik, hoped that he would understand her concern simply because he served the gods—they were wise, and probably someone who served them would automatically receive a very, very small part of their wisdom too. But the majority of Malia yelled: No. He wouldn't understand. He was mortal like anyone else. He would eventually die, become nothing again. His life was insignificant.

While her mind was chatting away as ever, her feet seemed to come strangely alive and … carry her to the small alcove nestled into a comfortably dark corner. Malia appreciated darkness and felt that the light of the sun belonged to the living, not to creatures who only consisted of dusk and white ichor.

She found her dark eyes squinting to see whether Glav Navik was following her … since she couldn't imagine anyone else responsible for those alcove conversations.

[Gossamer]

Malia

Glav smiled slightly and followed the creature to the alcove. He took a seat in one of the comfortable wing-chairs that sat paired up before a small empty fireplace, gesturing that she should do the same. When she settled - if she settled, he would reached forward and set the basket in her lap. "To walk among the living, especially when you are trapped in a halfway world between life and death, you should make some effort to fit in. No one will give much thought to someone who gives no thought to themselves. You should care for your body more. Keep the dirt cleansed off of it, keep the dark circles beneath your eyes powdered - and brush out that hair. You are carrying half of Syliras' dirt within it." Though his words might seem harsh, they were gently spoken with real sincerity in his gaze. "Though you are not one of us, you do move among us... some curiosity or need keeps you here. You have questions, and I might be able to help you with them. But I am no mind-reader child... no Konti Seer with pale skin and far seeing blue eyes. Tell me why you are here?" He said gently. His voice echoed oddly around the alcove, which was made of the same fine stone the rest of the Temple was. It was perhaps twenty by twenty foot room with a hearth, the two wingback chairs, and tapestries that lined the walls. Each tapestry tended to depict a God or Goddess - though by far not all of them were represented. Syna danced on her tapestry woven in golds, while Leth in his was silvery and broody. Dark gods, light gods, even obscure gods filled the walls captured in cloth and thread. It was an inviting space, with a woven rug uniting the two chairs so no feet had to rest on cold stone.

Glav paused, let her absorb what he said, then gave her time to rumage around in the basket.

The Basket :

One Violet Dress embroidered with orchids of multiple colors
Matching pair of shoes
Soap & Washcloth
Shampoo
Tin of face powder to conceal dark circles

[Malia]

Malia had known that Glav would follow her. The living were predictable in their innocence and curiosity. Not that Malia wasn’t like them, she still possessed some of their traits, but she knew how to control and take advantage of them.

The room itself looked comfortable and welcoming, there were big wing-chairs and even a fireplace. Malia would have liked to see a fire dancing in it, lighting the room and producing trembling shadows on the walls, but she guessed that even she wouldn’t like the following heat. Although she had travelled through hot desert and wet rainforest, she preferred the cold and distant. Warmth only lead to illusion and recklessness. She silently listened to the priest’s rather harsh words, sceptically eyed the basket that was laid into her lap. Nevertheless she registered the hint of care in his voice – and it warmed her like the non-existent fire. Calming. Comforting.

But also creating illusions.

In theory Malia believed in emotions. How could she not, seeing them daily when looking out of the window or walking at the streets, every place that was filled with people was also filled with emotions. Although she saw their effect, their benefit, she also saw their disadvantages and dangers. A person like her saw the dangers far clearer, and they certainly weighed heavier on her cursed soul. So Malia tried to avoid emotions … negative ones, of course, but also positive. With time rushing by, she saw no more need to express emotions, and she was tired of it.

Still … still that didn’t mean that she wasn’t capable of feeling! Times had changed, but the strong feelings had remained under the surface.

And when Glav showed with his words, with the things hidden within the basket that he actually cared … A feeling of warmth was building up inside Malia, inside her undead body. A smile started to reach her lips, her eyes even, but … she couldn’t show him her gratefulness in return. She just couldn’t.

So instead of beaming at him she raised from her chair again—in fact she had sat down out of mere politeness—and started wandering the room, restlessly and nervously. Feeling the heat in her cheeks and trying to suppress it. Instead of looking at Glav, she inspected the content of the basket once more … Even powder to cover the permanent bags under my eyes! Very thoughtful, indeed! While rummaging in it, she muttered something that should be “Thank you”, but wasn’t really loud enough to be heard.

It was then that she woke up from her emotional illusion and silently scolded herself. That wasn’t polite anymore, not in the slightest! So she straightened her back, smiled at Glav and repeated the two words. A present, even a small one, simply delighted her because she rarely got some.

Then Malia focused on why she had come here. Coming to business: searching for a reason. She was almost sure that he couldn’t give an answer either, but now that she was there the words needed to be spoken. Carrying the basket in one hand, she circled the room while her eyes were searching for Her image at the walls … the image of a middle-aged woman with blue eyes and snow-white hair, dressed in heaven’s colors. The image of the one who had given her immortality: Tanroa. After finding her Malia pointed at the image and explained: “I once travelled with another Nuit … He was the one who told me that Tanroa gave immortality to … us, as both a gift and a curse. Since then I have been thinking a lot. I wonder what the meaning of the Nuit’s existence is, if there even is one. I wonder if you know the reply, although I doubt it. Or if you could point me into the right direction.”

She took a deep breath. The words had flowed with ease, just like a river. Other drops would follow the first one. She looked at Tanroa, with an expression of true belief in her face. “I also want to worship and serve Tanroa with everything I am and everything I have. I owe her great respect. Although I should … probably hate her, I am highly grateful for the gift she has given to me.”

Then her eyes penetrated Glav again. She wanted to hear what he, a human, thought about her concerns.

[Gossamer]

Glav watched the Nuit pace, unconcerned by her restlessness and in many ways used to internal conflict that drove people to action - or at least to seek someone like himself. She wanted to know why... why her race existed and why a Goddess made a decision she had. The priest who was truly not exactly a priest leaned back in his chair, waiting for the creature to settle her thoughts enough to listen to his words. He wondered then, as he watched her, how old she was truly. It made a difference sometimes. The very young were still finding themselves, and the very old were trapped in a world they had already explored from one end to the other had had found no more answers after they were aged then they had when they were young.

The Nuit paused in front of Tanroa's hanging and stared at it. There was reverence in her words, and true longing. Glav wasn't surprised. People needed leadership, even those that were neither dead nor alive. They also needed a purpose, and some meaning in their day to day existence. The truth was, he didn't have the answers she sought. However, he did have opinions, and he waited until she was willing to listen. When her head swiveled and she met his gaze boldly, he knew she was ready.

"While I cannot presume to know what the Goddess of Time was about when she created your race, if indeed she actually did... I have had time to think on the topic and have some ideas. Tanroa is responsible for a great many things we enjoy. The Sun rises because of her, and the moon does so as well. Time moves on in ways we cannot control or hope to stop. For Tanroa, each instant be they in our past or present or future is the here and now. She uses mortality to mark her work, for it is our concept of the instant that dictates what to her becomes the past or present. If you think of a book with its multiple pages, and then picture reading it... we do so one word at a time. For her, she sees all words immediately be they at the beginning or at the end of the story. When we stop reading, we place a bit of ribbon in the book or number its pages so we know where we left off and can pick our reading back up immediately if we leave it to do something else. For Tanroa, we are that piece of ribbon or notation of a page number." He paused, letting this sink in.

"But by her power, we age and die. We leave the world, some say never to return, some say to come again. But regardless, we are fluid changing people. Now, the Nuit are not, as far as I know of your people. You live and that is all. I think for her, you are her great experiment. I think a Goddess would wonder, if people could live forever or at least live without the fear of death... what their minds would develop into. I wonder if she doesn't speculate on what you would become and what you would do of the time you have. For that reason, I think that is why she created you." He said softly. Truthfully, it made sense. Nothing lived forever, not even the bodies the Nuit inhabited. Glav didn't know it, but the Nuit's mind remained intact even as they discarded bodies and moved into new ones. They had perpetual life that way, an enjoyment of things to come, and yet a frailty that kept them from ever becoming the monsters humans could with all their strengths and weaknesses.

"As for serving her, and as for the questions you have of her, my suggestion would be simple. Ask her yourself. She is everywhere though, and as far as I can tell she is one of the hardest Goddesses to get to know. I think that is because of her view. It is so far flung, so broad, that a pinpoint of light like yourself has a hard time getting her attention. But if you could find some way to get yourself noticed by her, then perhaps you could pose these questions to her first hand." He suggested gently.

[Malia]

While he was talking, Malia recognized that her emotions were torn, split into two directions, willing to take two different ways at one time and yet not truly ready. Glav Navik spoke with great wisdom or at least great confidence, that much she could tell. He said he offered suggestions, but at the same time he didn't hesitate or question his own words in the slightest. He knew what he spoke about. He knew the world he lived in. A true wiseman? Likely. She got interested in him … “How come that you know, or believe to know so much about Her?”

But Tanroa was the main topic. Of course he was only providing a subjective view of the situation, but the majority of Malia's mind wanted to believe in. And be it just because she hadn't heard of any other perspective yet. It was just that … she could imagine it clearly. She could empathize with Her, at least as much as a worm could empathize with a snake, feeling a small part of the greater view a greater being would probably have. Of course, Tanroa was Time Herself. She was the personification of one of the most powerful aspects of Mizahar, She controlled time, knew history, probably planned the future. For a second Malia wondered if She possessed any power over the existence of the other gods. Probably not, for they were timeless too?

Still Malia couldn't imagine Her full power, naturally. She only knew, assumed that the Nuit were an experiment and due to that they had to be separated from the rest of beings living on the surface of Mizahar. For some reason, Malia felt anger rising inside her chest. She coughed a bit, showing the shimmering, black tongue. Anger!

All those years, decades, a little less than two centuries already she had believed in Tanroa's mercy, had believed that the Nuit were special to her. She had imagined what cause the goddess would have had to grace them with such a powerful gift. Perhaps she had forgotten the true meaning of the word 'curse', perhaps she had covered herself with a thick, soft and warm blanket of imagination and comfortable dreams and forgotten about the unforgiving world that surrounded her. Lies, lies, lies for her to make everything more bearable.

And her Master? He had believed, truly believed in Her. Malia only hoped that he had died still believing in Her. A wish upon a star, for him. That was everything she could do, wasn't it?

Then it was clear what she had to do. Her cold, pale fingers wrapped around the basket's handle until her knuckles were colored in a yellowish white. Force. Will. Strength. However, her voice was calm and clear when she addressed Glav. “Please tell me what I should do to contact her, if you have such knowledge. If not, please leave me alone, I'm going to try it anyway.”

Well, she was lying a bit. Consciously this time. Not trying, she was just going to do it, for Ukalas' sake! And she was sure that Tanroa was going to pay attention. She just had to! Malia felt her extraordinary blood, the ghostly white ichor, calling out to the realm of the gods, calling out with all the might of her two hundred year-old existence. She was Nuit. She was different than every living being on this world, and because of that Tanroa just had to recognize her call. Sooner or later, that was the question.

[Gossamer]

Glav smiled. He had his own secrets, for certain, some of which were for him alone. The priest scholar loved these sort of interactions, and in many ways he felt like a voyeur into another creatures life - and in some extent her agony. For there was pain there, he was certain, though such emotion startled him from someone who seemed so detached. "I know Tanroa. I know the curve of her cheek and the way her eyes grow distant when she forgets to focus on what I perceive as my here and now. We have talked, at times, and I have took on tasks for her when shes asked. Knowing her is not so very hard, but it is different for you must look upwards, above the river of time you are trapped drifting along in. Time must not exist for you for the instant you wish to talk to her. For one when of the creatures in her sights stops thinking of time and existing therein, it attracts her notice." Glav said, watching the creature pace. He wondered how fully they did exist in time to begin with. Had he known more of them he'd realize they were just as subject to it because their corpses rotted around them, subject to the same rules as all the rest of the life they dwell within. But Glav was ignorant of such things. He knew only of the Gods and sometimes what was in the hearts of the people that served them.

"I've given you the key, if you choose to use it. And I will be back, in the evening, or even longer. If she comes, I will know it and leave you two to speak. If she does not come, do not be offended or loose heart. Tanroa is everywhere at once, both in the past and future - and even for a Goddess that is a long stretch." Glav said, rising and slipping from the room. The Nuit was left to her own devices, though trusted, as Glav shut the door behind him.

[Malia]

She had stopped walking. His smile, his words were fuel for her anger. If she hadn’t already been pale as white walls themselves, she would have turned green with envy.

Glav Navik was an interesting person, for sure, but at that moment she just wanted to possess the same knowledge, the same familiarity with the goddess than he claimed to have. And she didn’t doubt that he was telling the truth, not in the slightest. His smile was honest, too.

Time must not exist for you … That was no problem, or so she thought, since the ichor was timeless, crawling through the veins of a mortal body, but not belonging to it, free to occupy whatever shell she would choose. Her ichor would live forever, existed out of time because the liquid neither aged nor turned sour. A Nuit wasn’t made of milk, after all!

Tanroa is everywhere at once … and even for a goddess that is a long stretch.

“Thank you.” This time the words were uttered loudly enough to be heard by a human.

But even after being left alone, his advice rang in her ears, rolled around in her head. … and even for a goddess that is a long stretch. What did that mean? Were gods not as powerful as she had thought? Did she have a wrong image of them? That wasn’t possible, was it? Questions, and more questions, but they confirmed her urge to speak with the goddess, her longing to see Her, hear Her, although she felt Her with every move she took within the concept of time on this world. She was everywhere, naturally.

But Malia wanted Tanroa to pay attention to her, especially to her. Only a second, the smallest part of a second – she wanted to be special to the goddess. To be an individual in Her timeless eyes.

Her ichor was boiling again. Literally. The experiment would show the creator how timeless it actually was! Her Nuit blood was the key to break through time, to let it stop or pass by or whatever, just with the difference that she didn’t care, that she wasn’t attached to it. She didn’t need time. She existed without time. That was the concept of being Nuit.

Perhaps it even was some strange kind of sense.

When she was sure that Glav was gone, she dropped the basket at the floor, sat down at the chair she had previously occupied, and closed her eyes. All she had to do was believe in the timeless goddess, let her ichor break free and eventually reach Her. While trying she neither breathed nor moved. A timeless Nuit. “Tanroa, watch me!”

[Gossamer]

Glav Navik knew a dismissal when he saw one. The priest wasn't offended though, not in the least. He offered one last nod and departed, having quite a few things to do himself. Malia was left alone with herself and her thoughts.

It was ironic that in a city named for a slain god, one who had wanted nothing more than civilization to thrive and to be at peace with itself, Malia had a hard time imagining gods to not be as powerful as she at first suspected. Syliras was a testimonial to Sylir's life - to all his work. Even The Windoak, a pale fragment of what the man used to be, represented the vulnerability and failings of the divine. At least the great oak still had a voice. Sylirs voice was silent forever.

But today wasn't about Syilr, nor was it about his great dream realized in a city by a sea that shouldn't have existed to begin with. It was about a woman that controlled time, took it to new depths, and understood the way the world flowed through it in a way perhaps no other single entity could.

And it was about Malia. It was about a want and need so powerful that a nuit could actually flame her desire to the point that her ichor... the sole reason she was alive and her most vulnerable part... burned to the point it bubbled. And when the words erupted from her lips, time froze. The light breeze that flickered candles and even the fire in the sitting room halted. The flames danced in mid-air and simply halted as if a painter had applied them with pigment rather than heat and fuel and air combined to bring them life. Any of her hair that was lightly teased with the natural air currents in the stone and wood temple froze mid-air. There was no need to breath. No need, indeed, for the ichor to flow through her veins.

Time simply halted.

"You have my attention, Malia." The soft voice of the middle-aged woman said. She stood in the center of the room, between the two winged-backed chairs, before the fire. Long elegant white hair was caught up in combs and collected in a braid that fell over her shoulder and blended down into the robe that glittered a white on a deep blue background. The robe looked exactly like someone had taken the night sky and wove it into material. It draped perfectly around the middle aged woman's form. She was neither skinny nor pump, neither comely nor plain. But her presence... was breathtaking. It wasn't the presence of appearance, but rather the sheer force of being 'there' in that place and time so solidly as to be unmovable.

But she spoke no more, giving Malia her full attention... looking on, with what appeared to be a spark of curiosity in her eyes.