Faith {Verin}

by **Bonnibell Carson** on February 12th, 2014, 9:51 pm

Date: 20th of Winter, 513AV
Location: Temple of the Black Sun
Time: Midday

The building cast a shadow over the city. It was a lavish, brilliant shadow. Twice broken yet still standing only added to the majesty that was the Temple. Carvings lined the sides. Wide open arcs tempted visitors and citizens alike. Just inside the Temple was more. It was larger. The doors to the main worship chamber looked as if they could be bigger than Ravok. The sun on the doors looked larger than the one in the sky. Bonnie pushed through the doors. The inner chamber was forever causing visitors and citizens alike to catch their breath. As a rule, the young woman didn’t worship. None of her family had, save her brother, who as another rule she didn’t talk much about. But the inside of the chamber was gorgeous. Perhaps to some it was greater than the outside. It presented shinning marble floors, an overabundance of alcoves, balconies, people, and pews.

Bonnie kept to the back of the Temple. Her gaze was glued to the ceiling as she walked. This was not surprising, most people gazed at one of two things: the large mural on the ceiling depicting the God they spoke with or the shard that gutted out in the center of the room as if the Temple had been speared. Was it really so frightening? She asked of the mural. Distracted the young woman lingered at the back of a pew and rubbed her knee. Just off work it convulsed with the pain of a day standing. Through her breeches Bonnie could see the skin pulsate. She kept her gaze to the ceiling, slid into the pew with a limp then massaged her knee.

It was customary to hear how Rhysol saved them all. How he deserved respect, devotion, and even their fear. After the cities well known trouble with a group of non-believers no one would dare disagree. Yet, not a thing had happened to her family and they never actually went to the Temple. We never started a rebellion. Bonnie thought drily. She finally turned her gaze to her surroundings. Some people spoke aloud, unrestrained in their thoughts and devotion. Others kneeled on pews, heads bowed, eyes closed. She looked to the balconies. Soft conversation floated from the faces of people she didn’t know. She would note, with not a little bit of cautious amusement, they all had what she lacked. Assurance. Focus.

They all entirely believed and trusted in a God she only knew the name of.

by **Verin Rush** on February 14th, 2014, 12:21 am

It had been sixteen days since the execution of the caught members of the Rising Dawn. Sixteen days since a member of the crowd had decided to take justice into his own hands. Sixteen days since Verin had seen said man flee, and since he had alerted others and led the chase to apprehend the man. Though he had sought little praise for his part in the events, he was surprised, and a little disheartened, at the fact that, apparently, he had not been noticed by his God, or by the faction of followers devoted to serving him. Since he was a child, he had loved few more than his God, much to the disapproval of his Syliran born father. And since he was old enough to understand the purpose of the Black Sun, and what they stood for, he had wanted to join their ranks, and openly serve the Defiler.

But sixteen days had passed and none had approached him. He knew that there was more to joining the Black Sun than simply chasing a bowman through the narrow streets and pathways of Ravok, but he had hoped that, then at least, he had begun to show his worth and he might be brought forth for further testing of his loyalty to Rhysol, as the stories went for initiation into the dark organization. “It’s probably down to your father,” a voice inside his head spoke, one that only ever seemed to appear to offer up negative ideas, “He was outwardly blasphemous towards Rhysol, he was from Syliras…” Verin’s pale, periwinkle eyes grow colder as the voice continued to share what he had tried to ignore, “No doubt they think that Vilkas Rush indoctrinated his two sons into a more Syliran outlook and belief. He was, after all, a suspected member of the Rising Dawn.”

Entering the temple, he instantly regretted coming at midday, as he remembered how busy it was – his mood, already dark from the intrusive cycle of thoughts, worsened. But he was working at the Malt House that evening, and he didn’t feel like he was able to leave his doubts unspoken for much longer, so this was his only opportunity. His God had never answered his prayers before, but Verin had never once doubted that they were heard, at the very least. Personal preference had led him to the Temple today, as the place where he had always felt closest to Rhysol, and a place of peace, where neither his father, nor his brother, were likely to disturb him.

Once inside, however, he didn’t feel the need to be near to any of the Defiler’s likenesses or idols. Rhysol’s presence was strong over the entire city, but none so strong, for Verin at least, as it was here. Round the outer rim of the expansive room he moved, sidling past a small brunette, he found a quiet patch where he could pray in peace.

by **Bonnibell Carson** on February 14th, 2014, 6:21 pm

Privacy was not an option in a Temple. People had to go somewhere. So Bonnie shifted as she watched a person just barely invade her space to think. But he was a quiet type. He did not pray aloud, and the young woman promptly forgot him. She returned her focus to figuring out why exactly she decided to come to the Temple. To speak with Rhysol. But how did one do that? She looked at the different prayer types again.

Praying, it would seem, was not an altogether thought of thing. What could a person even say to a God? What could I say to a God? Bonnie thought. Enviously she watched those that spoke openly. A small smile touched her lips. It set off a chain reaction through her. She giggled softly at first then shook with soundless laughter. Could a God even reply back? The thought sent her into further hysterics. Tears collected at the corner of her eyes. Bonnie felt her chest burn with the laughter, as it turned just shy of painful. Loudly she pulled in air. A few looks were sent her way. Bonnie ignored them, but avoided their gaze.

The young woman leaned back in the pew. Her gaze slide from its purposeful wandering as her head lolled. She found laughing tiring. But it was a good tired. Her gaze landed on the figure beside her. Bonnie stared out of the corner of her eye. He was a bit taller than her, she guessed. Blonde, attractive. But what kept her gaze on his face would not be his looks. The look on his face seemed to mirror the one she felt on her face. Not entirely but Bonnie could see confusion of a sort. Her gaze returned to the ceiling. Then her eyes slipped shut. Slowly her mind contemplated what people got from prayer. It traveled further down that vein. What do I get?

Bonnie finally released her knee. It had calmed down. As was her mind. Again her gaze wandered to the person closet to her. When the young woman finally left the Temple she would not know what prompted her to speak. Casual with conversation as she was, it was another to bring up religion. Hadn’t they just seen the non-devout crushed? But at the present it hardly mattered.

“What are you praying for?” She whispered. To her own ears her words sounded theatrical. It wasn’t the real question. The young woman would have to try again. She adjusted her body to face his. Bonnie lifted a hand to nibble on her nail. She continued. Her words muffled around the finger, still a whisper. “Why are you praying?”

by **Verin Rush** on February 16th, 2014, 7:20 pm

Bar a few whispered words, the a Temple was silent, allowing for the modest worship of the Defiler from the people who had congregated here with just one unanimous cause. Verin had always found peace in that fact, that he could come here and, even if he wasn't praying himself, he could watch others in their silent prayer. That alone was enough for Verin to love Rhysol more: the sheer amount of followers that the God had was awe-inspiring, especially when Rhysol kept kept them all, and the city, safe.

Settling back, Verin allowed these thoughts to drift from his mind as he cleared it, taking deep breaths. It was always best, the elder Rush brother found, to pray to the Gids with a clear mind, one which was focused entirely on the task at hand. In his eyes, prayers could become diluted and even meaningless if his mind was not focused on what he was saying. Why would any God care for his prayers if he didn't care about them himself, after all.

A quiet titter or laughter beside him caused Verin to open his eyes and cast a venomous sideways glance towards to culprit, who seemed to be oblivious to where she was. The girl fell silent, however, and Verin turned to look forward again and resume his preparation. In. He shut out everyone else in the Temple. Out. The whispers fell away to silence. In. He was alone. Out. His God was listening. In... Out...

"To find peace..." he began, speaking directly to the Defiler, "I only ask that I may do your bidding, in any form that I can, in any way that you require. I ask for your guidance in my quest to serve you, Rhysol. And I ask that you allow -"

A voice beside him snapped him out if his prayers and he turned to see the sane girl who had so inappropriately laughed before looking at him expectantly. She couldn't be serious... For the longest times Verin stared blankly at the girl, shocked that she had had the audacity to break his prayer, and worse, to break it under such awful reasoning. “I'm praying for the only two things we mortals can pray for,” he finally utters in a soft voice, one which was genuine and hid his incredulity, “Strength and guidance.” It was a crude approximation of what prayer was for; and the blond doubted that every prayer in this room was for one or both of those things, but that was what it could be boiled down to.

He averted his gaze once again to look at the idol in the centre of the Temple, where the majority of people stood. “As to why I'm praying... only a fool would be so open as to answer that question to their mother, let alone a stranger.” His last words had a touch of ice colouring them. He would answer questions when necessary and when the situation warranted it - Verin honesty believed that he owed as much to his God. But as a matter of conserving privacy, he had limits.

by **Alyra** on August 16th, 2014, 5:22 am

Verin :

Bonnibell :

Additional Comments :

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Faith {Verin}

Faith {Verin}

Faith {Verin}

Faith {Verin}

Faith {Verin}

Faith {Verin}

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