PM to join [Temple of All Gods] The Paths We All Must Walk (Keshta)

[Alistair Fordren]

21st Fall, 512 AV


It had been a while since Alistair last visited this place. As a child, his father brought him often on his free days. Walking around here was one of the few things that reminded him of those days. It had been a while since his last visit, though. Perhaps it was because he was distracted with other things. Finding ways to make money, for example, was quickly making it to the top of his priority list. With his father's inheritance running out, he absolutely couldn't wait around any longer.

He hated to admit it to himself, but he was currently an unproductive member of the society, for the most part. Sure, he wasn't a trouble maker, or any other sort of ne'r-do-well. But he certainly hadn't done much to contribute, either. And if he ran out of money, he wouldn't be able to afford his current home or any food. The Knights typically didn't take too kindly to those who simply took up space.

He took an empty seat nearby a young woman to pray. There were many things to pray for, for sure, but his main focus would be that he would find his way. He had no idea where destiny would take him. Or if destiny even existed, for that matter. But he knew that somewhere, somehow, his path was waiting for him. Waiting for him to talk down it and reach the end.

The nearby young woman certainly seemed familiar, though. In fact, he was almost positive he had met her several years ago. Assuming he was thinking of the same person, her father had also been a knight. He wasn't sure if she would remember him or not. And in all honesty, he felt somewhat awkward saying anything to her anyways. Instead, he acted like he hadn't recognized her as best as possible and returned to his prayers.

[Keshta Maric]

Yahal. yahal. Yahal. My lord, please. I… I am doubting. I doubt what I was so sure of not three weeks ago. It is not an uncertainty in your signs. I know I must serve, I must protect and defend Syliras and her wisdom in Peace. But… I doubt that I can. Had Keshta’s concerns been spoken aloud the young girl might have begun to sob. Her eyes might have burned and her words would be choked on wet, sticky tears. But this was prayer. Keshta’s face was silent, her brow quietly creased with concentration. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. It was a slow breath, calm and practiced and it brought her the comfort of familiar practices. Though her fingers twitched with the anxious energy that poured out from the depths of her gut, the child persisted in her silent meditation. If her breath was still, her breast steady, her mind could open to the heavens. Certainly her gods could hear her then. Yahal, my lord. I do not have the strength for this. I was not born to this. I cannot face this. I am frail and weak and I wish so badly to take this weight you have given me. If I could I would carry it beyond the Kabrin Road, to the seas of the South or the ice peoples of the North, wherever you bid me go. But my lord, I cannot. I am not my father, my aunt, my brother. Though my soul is howling for obedience my body is being crushed. It is unworthy to serve you. Never before had the pews of the Temple felt so uncomfortable. These welcome seats of sanctuary now pressed in unforgiving ways against her myriad bruises. Her skin was swollen like an overripe fruit. Her joints and muscles burned and squealed with each attempted use. The corner of her mouth felt stiff and unnatural where it had swollen, and a dark bruise curved away from her lips. Though Roulin had been responsible for many of her aches this was of her own doing. Her own silly incompetence that she couldn’t even lift a cuirass without injuring herself. Yahal… My lord. I must apologize for my failures. I am not the servant you might wish to have, but you have chosen me. I… I will not fail such a distinction. Keshta sniffed quietly and opened her eyes. There was a youth filling the space to her left. He seemed nearly done with his prayers. Keshta watched his fingers fidget and his toes begin to shift, as if preparing themselves to walk out the door. She’d seen many people looking like this, here in the Temple. Perhaps it was not proper, but the little devout found it soothing to watch others in the warm embrace of faith. Her eyes moved up to his face. “Alistair Fordren?” she whispered, and the boy’s name was swept up in a single airy breath and scattered among the eaves. OOCSorry this took me so long.

[Alistair Fordren]

OOCIt's alright Hope you had fun on your trip!

He wasn't even sure if he should focus his prayers to just one God, or contribute to each one. He recalled his father had always favored Tyveth, but Alistair had never really formed a "bond" with any of them. Then again, he wasn't even sure if playing "favorites" among the Gods was such a great idea. Would the others get mad at him? In the end, he had taken part in an internal debate about how and who to pray to more than any actual praying. What a horrible devotee he was.

He waited for a few more minutes, hoping - praying - that some sort of obvious answer would come to him. Would the gods even do that? Give a hint as to what he should do? Would one of the gods give him a nudge and say hey kid follow me I'll guide you!...? Yeah, probably not. What a silly idea. He decided to take his leave now, resolving to return when he had something to offer other than standard requests of "show me my path".

Just as he was standing, he heard a feminine voice speak his name. It shocked him, quite honestly. So much so that he slipped back into the pew, making a thud noise just loud enough for others to hear. He averted his gaze from anyone that could have taken notice, wondering if he had even heard anything at all. Immediately he looked towards Keshta. It must have been her that called his name. He had actually forgotten for a moment that she had been there, being so caught up in his own internal discussion.

He gave an embarrassed smile and a quick wave to her, not wanting to make much more noise than he already had. Looking at her now in the eyes he knew for sure it was Keshta. It had to be. She certainly seemed to have matured quite a bit since he last saw her. But at the same time, she almost seemed upset about something. Not only that, but she looked physically hurt, as well. Had something happened? Should he ask? He wasn't even sure if he should bring attention to it.

Since their parents had been knights, he had met her occasionally back then. But it had been a while. Especially since his own father died, he hadn't really spoken to any of the other knights in a while. Of course, back then he had also been almost constantly bed-ridden and only once in a while managed to get out of the house. She probably would remember him as the sickly boy who read lots of books and wasn't very outgoing.

His goofy demeanor certainly hadn't changed, though.

He looked around for a moment before motioning her to follow him. He figured he might as well check in to see how she was doing. But he wasn't about the start up a conversation right where they were. He would instead wait for her just outside, in front of the temple.

[Keshta Maric]

Keshta followed the young man, several years her senior, down the aisle and into the Syliran streets. He was still thin, almost frail looking for a man of his age. Perhaps that was how Keshta had recognized him. The Alistair who had come to supper in her childhood had never been a bastion of strength, and often his father had excused the pair’s early departure while Alistair coughed quietly. He looked healthier now. He was certainly taller, standing a good five inches over the Squire who walked gingerly behind him. She examined him carefully while his back was to her. Still thin and gangly, pale. He looks familiar, but something is different. Keshta remembered the quiet child who had come to their house. He hadn’t been very talkative, rather shy, and not extremely interested in the little girl who had been seated next to him. Alistair’s face still looked serious, but it was filled with a different set of concerns. He just looked older. Have I changed as much? Keshta did not feel as though she had. She was still a twig of a girl. Even the curves of burgeoning womanhood had done little to change that. Her hips weren’t wide and round, they were just a slightly less straight line that led to her legs. Save for the scars on her arm and hand very little had changed, Keshta even wore her hair in the same way. And Alistair seemed to recognize her. I wonder if her remembers my name. Deciding to save the young man embarrassment in case he did not Keshta addressed him. Here on the street her voice wasn’t a whisper that wafted over the pews. In a straight, matter-of-fact tone, though not an unfriendly one she said, “Hello Alistair. It’s me, Keshta Maric. I’m glad to see you recognize me after all these years.”

[Alistair Fordren]

"What, you think I don't remember your name, Keshta?" He asked an accusing, yet lighthearted tone. "We saw each other often enough when we were younger." He smiled, looking her over quickly. He noted the scars on her arm, being fairly certain they hadn't been there before. At least, he was pretty sure he would remember them being there, as they stood out enough. He wondered what happened, but decided not to draw any attention to it.

Alistair remembered the girl being rather strong willed, and especially religious. Part of him wondered if there was a reason he happened to meet her again this day. After all, lately his mind had been on destiny and the path his life would take. Quite a coincidence that during his attempt at prayer he happened to meet someone he used to know who just so happened to be fairly spiritual. He wondered if she had any insight for him. Also, her father was a knight! He seemed to recall her saying at one point that she wasn't interested in knighthood, but maybe her father could help him out a little? He still hadn't worked up the courage to go down to the recruitment office. He was still afraid they would just turn him down, despite his family history of knights.

Of course, he had no idea both her parents had already passed away.

"How have you been, Keshta? I can't say I'm surprised to see you here, honestly." He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall of the building nonchalantly. She likely remembered him as being shy. While a hint of that still seemed to be there, he managed to look at her directly with a mostly-confident demeanor. "How are your parents doing?" There it was. He added that horrible question at the end that was likely to be the result of an awkward situation.